- THREE -

They were out of chicken noodle soup, so Kurt had sent him to ask Sam to fix the problem because out of everyone else left in the house, Sam seemed to be the person with the lowest chances of burning down the kitchen.

If anyone had asked him, Jamie could've told them that Campbell's put soup into cans that were easy to open, pour into a bowl, and microwave. And those cans were stacked on the third shelf in the pantry next to the Ramen noodles. But no one ever asked him. So Jamie kept his mouth shut and let Kurt think that Miss Monroe's soup was just another one of her special homemade recipes.

It didn't take long to find Sam. The first place Jamie thought to look in was the garage, and sure enough when he neared it he could hear Sam talking with 'Berto. Sam was probably waxing his dirt bike again for the zillionth time this week and 'Berto was probably complaining again about why they couldn't drive the cars like the senior members were allowed. Jamie was glad they couldn't—the older boys liked to rag on him for being too young for this or too small for that, so it was nice to know they got to feel what it was like for him. In the end, they were all the same—newbie mutants compared to the X-Men.

And Jamie would've waltzed in to remind them that if 'Berto wasn't talking about something else totally.

"—letter. Sure she's missing us here, but it sounds like Rahne's doing okay back home. She's making it out there, Sam."

"What about Jubilee? She complains all the time when she calls. Pass me the Windex."

"Jubilee complains all the time, period. That girl's a certified whiner."

"Okay, yeah. But still—it's a stretch to say they're better off now. They're just hiding out back home."

"What were we doing here before Magneto and the Sentinel blew all our covers? Wasn't the Institute just one big mutant hiding place before that?"

Jamie hadn't thought of it like that. Standing just outside the garage, listening in on 'Berto talk like he was a little mad for some reason at staying here at the Institute, Jamie decided he had to keep eavesdropping just a little bit longer.

"You know that's not what the Professor's doin' here, 'Berto."

"I know, but look at the X-Men. Those 'senior members' are really just kids a little bit older than us who're here because they don't have anywhere else to go."

"That ain't true. Well, maybe Kurt and Scott and Rogue. But Kitty and Jean wouldn't be here if they didn't want to be."

"Don't get me wrong when I say this, okay? Because I'm not—hey! Leave me some turtlewax, you hog!"

"There's plenty left! Here. Yeesh!"

They must've spent a few seconds glaring at each other, but 'Berto seemed to get over it because after a while he started talking again. "Remember what Amara told us about Kitty?" he said. "The Professor recruited her right after she found out she was a mutant and freaking out about her powers."

"And?"

"And Jean's telepathy would've driven her crazy without the Professor's help."

"So he helped them get it together. Whaddaya expect?"

"Right. So—maybe a part of why they're staying here's because, you know, it's like a thank you or something."

They were quiet a few seconds, then Sam said, "I can't believe you just said that."

"I know. Good thing the Professor's not around. I'd get kicked out."

"Maybe you wanna get kicked out."

"No, I like it here, I swear I do! It's just—cabin fever, I guess."

"Now I know you're crazy. This is about as far a cry from cabin as it's gonna get."

Jamie found himself nodding to that—even now, he still got lost sometimes, and there were places on the estate that he'd never been yet, like out in the west side of the woods where Ray said he'd seen a bear once.

"Anyway," Sam continued, "the Professor wouldn't kick you out for that. Maybe just give you that fierce hairy eyeball that he does, like when Scott argues with him sometimes. And Rogue. But they're still around, right?"

"That's because Scott's got this wholesome-preppy-big-man-on-campus thing going for him that lets him get away with stuff no one else can. And Rogue's the wildcard everyone wants on their side because even without her powers that glower alone can scare anyone off."

"She ain't that bad."

"Oh, that's right. You're sweet on your fellow Southerner." Jamie heard 'Berto snort. "Just because she called you 'sugar' one time. And I saw the look on her face—she didn't mean to say it. Probably wanted to take it back."

"Quit gabbing, Dacosta! I wouldn't talk if I were you—hovering 'round the mailman when he comes by 'cause your life's all about Rahne's love letters now."

"Please. Rahne's just a kid. And if she's crushing on me, can you really blame her? I am a Dacosta, after all.

"Bullhockey. You're delusional."

"You're a wax hog. See? Nothing left already and all I got done was the side—and look at yours! It's so burnished I'm getting cross-eyed looking at it!"

Jamie grinned. This was more like it, and he was about to step inside to join in the fun when a hand clamped down hard over his shoulder. Squeaking, he looked up to find Bobby wearing an evil smile on his face.

"Snooping again, shrimp?"

"Wha—no! I was just—"

"Listening in on another conversation that doesn't involve you." Bobby dragged him into the garage. "Hey, guys, Nosy here was at it again."

"Great," muttered Sam, turning back to his bike for another swipe at some invisible spot on its already shiny paint. It was funny to Jamie, because the bike color was a near match to the shade that Sam's ears were turning. Before he could say anything about it, 'Berto tossed his rag on a work shelf and walked over to them. Watching him near, Jamie started fidgeting. Rogue's death glare just got some serious competition.

"How much did you hear?" 'Berto asked, sounding like Wolverine on a bad day.

"Not much," said Jamie.

"Bet he heard everything," Bobby said, then smiled even wider when 'Berto paled and Sam went even more tomato. "Guess it was an interesting chat, huh?"

"Shut up, Bobby," said 'Berto. "Jamie, tell anyone what you heard and you'll be on the receiving end of the world's worst case of wedgie ever."

"I won't, I swear!" Jamie said.

"Hang on, now," said Bobby. "You can't badger the poor kid if he feels like talking sometime."

"Don't be an ass, Bobby."

"That's not any way to treat your future team leader, Sammy boy."

"Dream on."

"I don't think so. In fact, why do you think I'm here now?"

"To be annoying."

"No—well, yeah—but I'm also here because it's like I keep saying, people—I cover your backs."

"What're you babbling about, Bobby?" 'Berto said, rolling his eyes as he headed to the sink.

"Look, last night I raided the fridge kinda late, right, because you know how I get really hungry and for some reason I was craving rocky road with Cookie Crisps—"

"Aw, hurry it up, huh?"

"Okay! I'm getting there, just wait! So I'm there in the kitchen sitting at the counter all by myself when I get goosebumps on my neck—"

"Pimples," said 'Berto, without looking up from his hand scrubbing. "You get pimples on your neck, Bobo. Your face, too."

"You should talk. That thing on your chin's getting so big we oughtta name it already. Now where was I—oh, right. So I look over my shoulder and see something out the window. But I can't tell what."

"A person?" said Jamie.

"Can't tell, I said."

"Oh." Then, "A bear?"

"Jamie!"

"Sorry."

"Anyway, I just checked the vids from the security cameras, but nothing turned up."

"You told Kurt?" Sam asked.

"Haven't seen him yet. You're the first to know."

"It probably wasn't anything," 'Berto said, turning the faucet off. "A hungry squirrel or chipmunk staring in to see what the weirdo in the kitchen was eating."

"Maybe," Bobby said. "But keep an eye out—we don't want any surprises, especially now."

"Sure thing, Logan."

"Go ahead and make fun, but it's gonna happen soon, guys. Sure we're the junior team, but someday we'll have to deal with things without any senior member watching over us. They're gonna send us out on real missions, appoint a field leader, and—well—" Bobby shrugged in that 'I'm Da Bomb' way of his, as one finger froze a droplet that was threatening to fall from the faucet. "Who else is better at keeping cool under pressure?"

Sam shook his head, finally stepping away from his bike. "Man, you're so full o' crap no wonder I saw you taking Ex-lax."

'Berto grinned and Jamie started laughing, but Bobby shrugged it off. "Laugh now, peeps, but you'll see. I mean, who was the one Kitty told about Morocco? And with Evan gone, who're the X-Men picking to beef up their ranks?"

That shut Jamie up. Sam and 'Berto were quiet too, as they all stared at Bobby's smug little smile. Scott was even letting Bobby train with the senior team more—not that he did so great there, but it really was a sign, wasn't it? Jamie hated the idea. Bobby's head would just keep getting bigger and bigger until it reached the size of Alaska and they'd need a pin the size of Rhode Island to pop it—and suddenly, Jamie remembered.

Making sure his voice had the right kind of hurt in it, he said, "I guess that's why Kurt picked you and not anyone else."

"What's that?" said Bobby, smirking at 'Berto and Sam.

"He probably doesn't trust any of us to get it right."

"Don't take it personal, shrimp. Just the breaks, you know?"

"I guess."

"So what does he want me to do?"

"It's real important, he told me," and here Jamie looked at Bobby seriously, putting all his acting skills into it. Staring with wide eyes at the other boy's anxious face, he finished.

"You gotta make more soup."

"C'mon, man, lemme borrow it."

"No."

"I'll spot you for gas, I swear, yo!"

"No!"

Migraines were a common thing to Lance thanks to his powers, but what he had now had nothing to do with his mutation. No, this—throbbing from the base of his skull to all around his temples and the spot just between his eyes that kept a steady rhythm of pound-pound-pound and left him severely yearning for a lobotomy—this was a Toad-induced headache.

"They're gonna need a ride home!"

"They can take the train. Like they did to get there, so stop bugging me! If you want to meet up with them so bad, take the train yourself!"

"Aw, come on, man!"

"Let him use it, Lance," said Freddie. "He's not gonna shut up until you do."

"No one drives my jeep but me," he replied, letting the walls shake now.

"Fine," Todd said. "Drive me to the city, then."

"No, I'm busy."

"You ain't doing nothing!"

"I'm watching TV."

"C'mon, Lance!" And this time Todd hopped up and down to make his point. "I'll hotwire the jeep if you don't!"

"You don't know how to do that."

"Try me, yo!"

Freddie nodded. "I saw him look it up on-line at school one time. He probably won't get it started, but your wires'll be trashed."

Lance's growl was low and dangerous, but Todd's pasty face just smiled back. "I'll kick your ass," Lance said.

"I don't care."

Lance believed that. For Wanda, Todd was probably willing to risk losing an eye or something equally stupid. "Fine, I'll drive you."

"Really?"

"Yeah—but I want you outta my face from now on! You don't bug me about any other favors so you can impress Wanda! And I don't wanna hear crap about Gambit or Pyro or anything that has to do with those dorks! You're just gonna shut up the whole ride to the city!" Then maybe his migraine would go away.

Todd nodded his eager dumb nod and mimed that he was zipping his mouth shut. Lance figured it wouldn't last past the front door, but worth a try. He stood from the cushions of the couch he'd been planning to spend the rest of the day on, trying not to look back with longing. Todd was a lucky bastard. If it were any other time…but Lance really had woken up in a decent mood today, and not even Gambit's visit killed it, since the pizza ploy turned out to be a good way to keep Freddie at least quiet for a solid half hour with the four boxes that was just for him.

"Can we stop by White Castle?" Freddie asked as they all trouped to the door.

Lance gaped at him. "You gotta be joking."

"I'm still hungry," Freddie said, avoiding his eyes.

"No, you're not," Lance said. "You just wanna see if that girl's there tonight."

"So we're going?"

Lance sighed. "Whatever." He turned the knob to open the door, then spun back again. "But that's it! No more stops after White Castle—I don't want any more headaches!"

But looking up, he found that someone was blocking his way, a blond guy Lance had never seen before. Probably one of Gambit's friends, from the clothes and smirk he wore. Lance's mood turned sour. "Who the hell're you?" he demanded.

"That depends," the blond said, his voice thick with accent. "I'll either be your new best friend—"

Lance clenched his fists, causing underground tremors.

"Or your worst headache yet."