Hey, it turns out there are computers in the Underground.  Who knew?

***

Thief of Spirits

***

De Mind Games

***

            Rogue stared at the broken, bleeding man in the corner.  Blood spilled down Remy's arm and his face was in pieces.  Rogue turned to stare at the bestial man she knew had done the damage. 

            "Why?"

            He smiled and then lit a cigarette.  "Eye for an eye, blood let is blood owed," he growled simply.  The man began to smoke and Rogue wrinkled her nose.  He smiled again, hefted Remy up on one shoulder, and left the room.

            "If you don't mind, I would like to ask some questions, Rogue, is it?"

            Rogue's attention was pushed back to the handicapped man across from her.  He was obviously somewhat old -and completely hairless, of course.  Still, he reeked of power and joie de vivre.  Damn, the French was sinking in.  The man reeked of power and...vitality.  His smile showed his paternal side, the jaw and nose lent him charisma, but his eyes shone with barely concealed ruthlessness.  There was something comical about a bald man in a wheelchair, but his every deliberate movement spoke of great intelligence.

            In short, the man was a complex jumble of contradictions.  If Remy was any indicator, she was screwed.

            "Do you always switch between sophisticate and childish banter in your thoughts?" he asked casually. 

            Rogue blinked.  Then she glared.  She already had enough boarders in her head, she didn't need peeping toms as well.  It was a violation.  To have that prick rifling through her mind...

            "I'll take that as a yes," he said.  The dotard was unfazed by the more graphic and less verbal parts of her thoughts.  His strong eyebrows creased, revealing a bit of cruel anger in his eyes as well. 

            "The word dotard," he treated the word as a disease, "defines an person whose mind has liquefied with age.  I assure, that is not the case with me.  Do not use that impressive vocabulary where it does not fit."

            Rogue smiled.  "I thought dotard fit perfect."  She rested her elbow on the chair and propped up her tilted head lightly with a few fingertips.  She watched the amusing sight of an older man on the verge of staging a tantrum.  He stopped suddenly, realizing what she was doing.

            "Your trick of controlling people through their emotions will come to no end with me," he stated coldly.  Damn, those eyebrows were expressive.

            The teenager lifted her head off its fingertip pedestal.  "Actually, it's workin' just fine.  Really Dotard...Mush Mind," she allowed a grim smile at his reaction to that one, then continued, "stop usin' fancy words.  I only think 'em an' people can actually understand mah speech.  Yer lofty words can't turn me inta a droolin' toddler, so cut tha crap."  She began to idly toy with one of the wedding rings on her neck.  It was the larger of the two.  There was a sort of engraving on the inside.  She would check it out later.

            "So," she gestured with her hand, "what's yer name?"

            "I really don't think my name matters in this, my girl."

            Rogue rolled her eyes.  "All right, I'll just hafta call you Mush Mind, then."

            Those eyes did another flash of rage.

            "Go ahead.  Spill tha name beans, Mush Mind."

            "Professor Charles Francis Xavier," he said finally, as if there were something prestigious and noble about that particular name.

            The girl laughed, "Nice ta meet you, Professah Charles Francis "Mush Mind" Xavier."  She stood up and walked towards the minibar.  A door opened and the wild man appeared threateningly.  Rogue leveled her gaze at him.  "Go back an' keep on beatin' my unconscious husband, Kitty."  His hair did look like a cat's ears after all.  He growled fiercely.  Whatever she had said really must have struck a nerve.

            Rogue ignored them and knelt in front of the tiny refrigerator.  It was locked but Remy had taught her a thing or two in the last few days.  Of course the damn necklace lock was a step above anything current technology could break, but she could dream, couldn't she?  She pulled a hairpin from a jeans pocket and after a few seconds, she opened the door.  That lock had been cheap.  After a little deliberation, she pulled out a can of coke.  Then she tossed a bottle of beer towards the brute.  He caught just a little too easily.  Alcohol and the man had a longstanding relationship it seemed.

            He held out a fist and a blade sprung out of a knuckle.  It didn't cause Rogue much discomfort.  After Remy and his friends, it took a bit more than that to scare her.  She suddenly became aware of the chill of the necklace's metal on her throat.  Adamantine, had she heard something about adamantine blades somewhere?  The girl ignored it and smiled.  The blade punctured the bottle's cap and the man raised it to his lips.  Mid swig, she said sweetly, "Drink up.  Maybe it'll make tearin' apart a helpless boy seem like a fair fight."

            The bottle whizzed by her ear, slamming into the wall behind her.  The glass of the bottle shattered and the mirror did one of those amazing spider web breaks.  Rogue asked innocently, "I'm sorry, don't yah like Sam Adams?  I can getcha a Guinness."  She turned and admired her distorted image for a second.  "The maid isn't goin' ta like that.  Then again, she won't be too hot 'bout those shredded drapes either, Kitty."

            Rogue popped the can and took a slow sip of Coke, letting the two men get a hold of their tempers.  A shattered reflection of Kitty stalked back to Remy's room and slammed the door.  With the little killer out of the picture, she turned around.  She was a little surprised to find Xavier directly in front of her, but she let it slide.  She turned around again and reached to the left side of the counter for one of the towels waiting there.  When she had cleared enough beer and glass shards off the ruined counter over the mini-fridge, she hopped on and looked down at Mush Mind. 

            Nodding towards Remy's door, she said, "Kitty's got a temper."

            "Actually, she had quite a sweet nature," he replied.

            "That brute is a girl?"  Rogue laughed so hard, she nearly fell of the counter. 

            "That man is Logan.  Kitty was a girl that was just killed."

            Her giggle fit stopped short.  Then she shrugged and leaned back onto the spidery mirror.  Mush Mind was bothered by some girl's death, but Rogue didn't have the energy to care at the moment.  Taking Jimmie with her and Cara had sucked her day's compassion dry.  It was sad and all, but there was nothing she could do about it, so why bother?  She didn't exactly have a reason to comfort Mush Mind and...Kitten anyway.

            Rogue skipped over the topic and asked, "So...why am I here?"

            "Kitty, and a boy named Kurt, both died a few days ago.  Kurt was murdered in Fairfield cemetery five days ago." 

            Rogue remembered when and where she had met Remy.  She decided she didn't like where the Prof was going. 

            "Kitty was nearly killed when a Lilly LeBeau's crypt crashed down on her." 

            Definitely did not like where it was going. 

            "She disappeared from my mind's reach two days ago.  That only happens when a person leaves this world, one way or the other."  There was something behind that statement.  Rogue didn't know what, but there was.  Still, she was a firm disbeliever in aliens, so she ignored it.

            The teenager looked to the closed door.  "So you think Remy's got somethin' to do with it?  Where's tha proof?"

            Xavier shook his head.  Damn, he was wearing that "poor ill-conceived child" expression.  She hated that one.  "My dear, if you had any inkling of the reputation the LeBeau family holds in some circles..."

            "Where's tha proof.  I..."  Rogue paused.  She would not say 'I wanna' like the toddler he treated her as.  "I want to know what Remy did, if he did anythin'.  Yeh see a monster an' I see a poor lost boy, or at least I did before.  Give me proof or get outta New Orleans."

            Mush Mind bristled at her blunt demand.  "You do not realize the situation you are in, child."

            Rogue learned forward sharply and glared into his harsh eyes.  "No, you don't.  You harm a hair on my head an' there will be a price on your bald one.  Now, we can work this thing out peaceful like or I can goad Kitten inta attackin' me."

            Xavier looked up at her, surprised.  "I thought you would have leapt at the chance to get out of this waking nightmare.  Ten minutes before, you were."

            Rogue was surprised as well, but she shrugged.  "I root for tha underdog.  Ten minutes ago, that was me.  Most times these past five days, it's been me.  But I'm not tha one beaten bloody unconscious for no apparent reason, now am I?  But hey, give me proof that Remy had a knowin' hand in those kids deaths an' I'll help ya kill 'im."

            She waited for the silent man to open his mouth.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

            Jimmie shook his head, then winced.  He gingerly touched the lump of bloody hair and bruised bone and rather wished he hadn't.  He looked around and the universe eagerly ran to him, each particle fighting to be the first to tell him what he had missed.  Sighing, the boy opened his mind and let the knowledge soak into his mind.  A woman in Montana was beaten by her husband.  The injuries would permanently disfigure her face.  A boy in Vermont sat down to write an essay.  That A- would carry him to Harvard and then Capitol Hill one day. 

            Hannah Laura shook her head at Allan's display case of metal covered baby booties, pencils, and flowers.  She snapped the pregnancy test in two and threw it in the garbage, muttering about bronzing Allan's manhood.  Her baby's father looked on mournfully, realizing that he wouldn't get any for nine months. 

            The baby itself was cute, in a deformed pink reptile sort of way.  He would be 6' 8", have his mother's red hair, have the sort of muscles bodybuilders drooled over, and be completely normal.  There was no mutant gene in his body, even a recessive one.  It was Allan's fault, really.  It was one of those little known genetic facts, like the one that the male determined the gender of his baby.  Jimmie wished he could have told Henry VIII that and then took a photo of the King's face. 

            The male also determined whether a baby would be a mutant.  Jimmie wished to God he could have told Hannah Laura's ex Matthew that.  The idiot blamed HL that their Caleigh was a mutant.  That would be funny if it weren't so sad.

            The knowledge just kept on coming, and after a while he was able to tune it out for the most part.  Only his immediate surroundings told him anything.  Jimmie looked towards the Napoleon Suite and shook his head.  He had really dropped the ball on that one.  He looked at the unconscious woman on the floor and grimaced.  He had never caught Cara's ball to begin with.  She was a complete mystery to him, this black void in the middle of a universe of pure light.  The boy rubbed his poor head.  He hadn't even seen her coming. 

            Jimmie had to trust his own eyes that the unconscious woman was actually real.  He hated that.  Actually, that was a lie.  He could see her through anyone's eyes.  He had seen the way Rogue saw her as a friend and Tom, the Grecian ladies mutant, saw her as a conquest.  Jimmie couldn't find Cara, though.  She had a physical body and some surface thought and instinct, but no mind.  He just couldn't find the thing, find Cara's presence.  It had thrown him for a turn.

            And now look where it had landed him.  Rogue was skating on extremely thin ice and Remy's life was hanging in the balance.  Jimmie lay low, hoping Xavier would be concentrating too hard on Mademoiselle LeBeau to find him.  He thought frantically, trying to think of a way he could help without being found.  When he thought of it, he groaned and thought even more desperately for another way.  But he couldn't.  Outside help was out of the question.  He had to go inside.

            Jimmie walked into the world of green light that was Rogue's mind.  Stealthily, he crept towards a solid metal door set off to one side.  He hesitated for a moment, and then waved a hand.  The X on the door morphed into a J.  It swung open for him and he walked into the darkness.

            The boy knew the wolfdog was coming, but it still would have nailed him if its roar hadn't warned him.  Some bit of stored knowledge informed Jimmie that Lycanthropes had an impressive kill roar.  Sometimes he really hated knowing everything.  He sidestepped the blue mutant as it dropped down on him from the ceiling of the cell.  "Now hold on!  I didn't trap you this time.  Xavier did."  Jimmie sighed a little when Kurt's transient mind held up a three fingered hand.  Matt held onto the werewolf.  Jimmie turned around to look up at Martin, who towered over him, looking down coldly. 

            That had been a close one. 

            "Talk," Kurt ordered.  "Why are you here?  What is going on out zere?  We vere in Cara's hotel room and Rogue's Aunt Irene knew Rogue was next to Cara.  I was about to tell Rogue it maybe didn't mean anything, denn Matt, Lupe, and I were shoved in here.  Martin managed to dodge, but he was caught too.  He didn't notice enough to tell us anything."

            Jimmie looked up at the German.  "Your English has really improved," he commented.  Fangs a little too much like Lupe the werewolf's were bared.  "Answer ze questions, Teufel."

            "The Devil doesn't exist, Kurt.  Believe me, I know."  Hastily, he went on, "Xavier thinks Remy killed you and Katherine Pryde.  Rogue is caught in the crossfire"

            Kurt nodded, but Matt shook his head.  "Whoa, back up here, kid.  Who's Xavier and Katherine, and what tha Hell is this place?"

            Jimmie answered, "This is a mental prison, a creation of Xavier's.  Its sort of like that ocean I threw you in."  The southerner glared.  His hair was still damp and he reeked of brine.  The eight year old went on to avoid a confrontation, "Xavier, Professor Charles Xavier, is a mutant.  A very powerful telepath."

            "Like you?" Martin asked.

            Jimmie laughed.  "One: I'm not exactly a telepath, and two: no one in this world is more powerful than Xavier when it comes to the mind.  Those that aren't in permanent comas, that is." 

            Kurt quirked an eyebrow. 

            "I'll explain the coma thing to you if the situation comes up and not before," Jimmie said.  To the others, he continued, "Katherine -and Kurt- are...were students of Xavier.  They disappeared a few days ago."

            Kurt said sarcastically.  "Yes, I'm missing so I'm automatically dead.  I don't think ze Professor would fall for zat."

            The little boy shook his head.  "Let me try to explain this.  People, they have...a presence.  Have you ever felt someone behind you?  Not their breath or the heat of their bodies, but "them?"  This presence is sort of a combination of their mind and the impact they have on the universe.  Xavier can find that first one.  If he can't find that mind, then the person is either out of range or the mind just isn't there anymore.  When Xavier uses his Cerebro...a machine that amplifies his metal powers, he can search the whole planet.  He can't find Kurt or Katherine, so they're either dead or they're brain-dead.  Believe me, they're dead."

            "And how do you know?" asked Matt, absently petting the werewolf.

            "Remember what I said about presences?  There's more to it than the mind.  People touch the world and the...oh I call them particles...they get filled up with knowledge about the person.  I can sense that.  If I try, I can talk to a mind like it was a bunch of those particles.  I can give those particles, that mind, knowledge or take it away."

            Martin cut in.  "So this explains how you can make people forget and make me relive..."  He shuddered and looked away.  Jimmie felt a twinge of regret.  He had overlooked the fact that these were real people in the universe of Rogue's mind.  He had treated them like collections of knowledge that he had every right to manipulate and even delete. 

            "Yes.  That explains it.  Anyway, that's my mutation.  I can read that knowledge and manipulate it.  Sometimes.  I couldn't change the real Kurt's hair color, for example.  That knowledge is locked away in his DNA.  Think of it as a read-only file." 

            "So there's nothing you can't find if you look?" Kurt asked a little dejectedly.  "I'm really dead."

            "The body and mind you came from, yes.  Kurt's presence died in Fairfield cemetery.  Katherine's disappeared in the Bayville Mall.  Bayville is the town Xavier and his students live in.  Can we please move away from the real Kurt being dead part and move onto the you being killed shortly part?"

            "What!" the minds around Jimmie collectively shouted.

            "Rogue is out there, trying to outsmart Xavier.  Forgive, but she's an idiot.  She's doing pretty well, but the Professor's temper will snap and then she will die.  Kurt, think of the kind man you know as a mask done up over the original Charles.  Have you ever thought of how he lost the use of his legs?  Xavier was crippled in a death match with his best friend.  He has never been a stranger to death and has no qualms about it.  Why do you think he employs the Wolverine, a Killer over a century old.  Yes, he is that old.  He came into his mutation in England in the year 1888 and quite violently too.  Again, back to Rogue.  I need something to buffer the Professor's temper.  Kurt, she could really use a little ghostly intervention here."

            Kurt stared at Jimmie, slowly realizing what the boy had just said.  "What are you going to do?
          "Patch you into Rogue's motor functions and vocal chords.  If the real me is not disturbed, I can manage it.  It's just rerouting information streams.  I've spoken through people before; it's really not all that hard."  Jimmie "blinked" and they were in a replica of the Napoleon Suite's living room.  Kurt sat on the countertop over the mini-fridge, facing an illusion of Xavier.  The little mutant gestured for the others to take seats on the collection of couches and chairs. 

            The werewolf sniffed about and went to a closed door.  Lupe scratched at it with a small whine.  Jimmie smiled sadly.  Leo, the real world version of Lupe, really felt loyal to Remy.  There weren't a lot of places in the world for half-breeds. Remy had made a place for the misfit.  Like so many others, Leo was eternally indebted to the Prince.  However, the half werewolf was one of the few that actually realized the act of godly compassion LeBeau had bestowed upon him.  Most of the others, like Mell and Rogue, resented Remy.  They didn't understand that he had saved them from worse fates.  Lupe, as a strange copy of Leo, felt the same intense loyalty to Remy.  He wanted to save his Prince, even if only in a make believe world.             

            "Just lie down, Lupe.  We're going to save Rogue now so she can save Remy for real."

            Lupe dropped down onto the floor against the door.  It may only have been a wolf-dog mutt, but it was intelligent.  Jimmie sat down on the table.  "Okay, I'm going to patch you in.  Whatever you do in here will happen out there.  We'll all see and hear  what happens and try to coach you through anything if you need help.  I'll help in the knowledge department.  If it comes to physical blows, let Martin take over.  If Xavier attacks, I'll try to block him out.  I've never gone up against a telepath, just avoided them.  Here goes nothing."

            Jimmie clenched his teeth and the frozen image of Xavier came to life.

~*~*~*~*~*~*                                          

            Kurt opened his eyes, really opened his eyes.  It wasn't just some projected action from his mind; it was real.  Actually, it was Rogue's eyes he opened, but it felt the same, if a little more sexy.  He looked down at his slightly disturbed Professor.  He looked up and saw Rogue, or at least her mental projection.  Matt was madly holding her down while she tried to kill Jimmie.  A small laugh escaped his lips.  The feminine sound reminded Kurt of what was going on and he looked back at Xavier, trying to ignore the comedy going on in the living room. 

            "Professor?" he asked, trying to make it sound as fuzzy dude-like as possible.  "Professor, it's me."  Maybe it was the accent, but Xavier actually did a double take.  Kurt barreled straight into it, trying prevent that moment when the Professor dismissed it as an act.  "Professor, is it true?  Is ze real me dead?" 

            Jimmie slapped his forehead, but the Blue Boy ignored it.  Xavier was too smart to actually think Kurt was a ghost.  The mental copy story would have to do.  "Professor, is ze real Kurt dead?"  He kept it to simple questions that wouldn't cause much of a reaction. 

            "Yes," the answer came sadly. 

            Kurt's face twisted sorrowfully.  The news from Jimmy hadn't really been enough.  He had no reason to trust the boy.  But the Professor...

            "You think zis Remy dude killed me?"  Dangerous waters had been entered.  Kurt marveled at the rage barely confined in the man's eyes as he nodded curtly.  "I didn't know you could get zis angry.  You were always so forgiving and kind."

            Xavier blinked, the anger sliding away a bit.  Jimmie said, "He's cooling down.  Keep working on that temper.  I'll tell you when he will listen to reason."  Kurt fought the urge to nod and kept going at his mentor, the man that had taught him it was okay to be blue.

            "Scheiße, what sort of Hell is zis?  I'm dead, Kitty's dead, it was just supposed to be a damn recruiting mission.  State our case, give ze offer, and go home.  I want to go home, Professor."  Kurt pulled his legs in and hugged them as he used to do when he had a body.  He wrapped his tail around his wrist, or at least the mental him did.  There was no real tail on Rogue, which was a shame in his mind.  Rogue would have been hotter if she had a tail.

            There was a sort of outraged female sound and Matt laughed, "We heard that one, Kurt.  I'd watch mah thoughts  if I were you."  Kurt blushed, feeling the burning sensation.  It was different without fur.  It felt so much more obvious and embarrassing.  It still felt good. 

            Looking up, Kurt asked.  "What is vith you und Herr Logan?  You've just gone mad or something.  It's scary."  He stood and leapt over the Professor.  It was strange without the sticky pads most people called toes, but he managed with his usual flair.  The more he acted like Kurt, the better. 

            He rubbed his fingers, all ten of them, together.  He tried to move each individually but it was exactly like his hologram hands.  Basically, he was forever doing a Vulcan "live long and prosper." 

            "How do you work zese things?"  He tried to move just the smallest finger, but the ring finger kept moving with it.  Then a little invisible tug pulled the "pinky" away from its partner.  "Oh, danke."  Kurt found he was able to copy that strange feeling and started to move each gloved finger on its own, with lots of mistakes.  An impulse overtook him and he placed both hands together and prayed like he had always wanted to.  He clapped the hands together and pointed his fingertips towards heaven.  No matter what Jimmie said, there was a God.  Just once, he wanted to pray in the way that God could hear. 

            'Let this damned thing have gone to Heaven.' 

            A tear fell down his face and he put his hands at his sides.  Even crying felt good without fur.  The tear rolled down a bare cheek, telling the world that he was sad and not just wet.

            "He didn't hear that," Jimmie reported.

            Kurt glared at the boy.  "What makes you think I prayed to Xavier?" he snarled.  He remembered where he was and looked at the confounded Professor.  Ruefully, he smiled, "There's a regular peanut gallery in here."  He pointed a finger at Rogue's...the real Rogue' head.  He was proud that he managed to point with only the pointer finger.

            He put the hand down.  "I'm just going to be blunt.  Don't kill Rogue."  Lupe leapt to his feet and hissed rather like a snake.

            "Or Remy," Kurt added hastily.  He didn't like the idea of getting even furrier and chasing his tail on full moons.  Lupe snorted exactly like an indignant horse and lay back down.  Was there any animal sound that thing couldn't make?  The werewolf looked up again and deadpanned, "Baa-aa-aa." 

            Kurt dissolved into laughter; he couldn't help it.  The closed door that Lupe guarded opened and Wolverine stepped out.  "What is goin' on out here, Baldy!"

The not so blue, not really male Blue Boy stopped laughing immediately.  He had the most insane urge to port away from his wild looking teacher.  Kurt desperately fought against the instinct; he had this feeling that if he tried to port, he would fart.

            Rogue made an outraged noise and advanced on Kurt.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

            Logan looked incredulously at the terrified girl who backed away from some nonexistent threat.  He looked to the professor, silently asking what to do.  Frankly, Charlie looked just as confused as he did, possibly more.  They both watched as the girl dodged some invisible foe until her back was against the wall.  She pleaded at the air, "Please!  It vas only a thought, I didn't actually..." she yelped and cringed.  A moment later, Logan and Xavier stared at  a very memorable puff of sulfur smoke.  After a quick sniff, Wolverine found her pressed into the corner...where the wall met the ceiling.  Legs and arms splayed out, she held her position for dear life.  Then she blinked and looked down.  She stopped pushing against the walls and dropped gracefully to the floor.  The landing was very familiar.

            "Fur Ball?"

            The girl looked up.  "Herr Logan!" 

            Herr Logan threw up his hands at Charlie.  In five days, Kurt had gone from being almost too alive to MIA to dead.  If there was some chance he was suddenly in a girl's body, he wasn't the one who was going to figure it out.  He jerked a thumb towards Mr. LeBeau.  "Don't suppose Kitty's goin' ta come out that door with red eyes and a Cajun accent...thought so.  I'll be in some bar 'cross the street."  He stalked to the door, pulled a jacket from the closet and left the suite.

            The man decided to take the stairs.  As he walked, he growled softly.  New Orleans was insane.  Every time he visited, something...  Logan stopped mid step.  He had never been to New Orleans before, had he?  He rummaged in his mind for anything.  Green liquid, faceless doctors, and pain.  He found nothing.  Disgusted he gave up and continued on his way to a bar.

            In the lobby, a young woman behind a desk asked if she could help him.  He shook his head at her and walked out through the resolving door.  He smelled familiar scents in the spinning glass circle.  There was that girl and Mr. LeBeau, but someone else as well.  Try as he might, he couldn't place that scent.  His mind told him it was Kitty, but he forced the thought away.  She was dead and he was hallucinating. 

            He broke away from the hotel, fighting his instincts.  They told him to run, but the man told him that was stupid.  If you ran, you got caught.  You didn't have to do anything wrong, they would blame you anyway.  They had before, why not now?  Logan stopped and searched his head.  He came up only with an image of a woman's lips, no face or chin or nose, just the lips.  They were stained crimson with some sort of paint.  They were stock still, as if the woman they belonged to was asleep.  He tried to remember more.  Liquid metal, blood in the water, pain. 

            "Lips," Logan whispered, trying to remember what lips had to do with anything.  He shook his head and walked down the street, following his nose towards the beer.  When he had learned that alcohol killed brain cells, he had become even more of a drunkard than before.  He kept hoping that maybe the next beer would kills the cells that remembered the pain.

            Logan rubbed his knuckles with his fingertips, feeling the thick grooves plated with adamantine.  His hands grew cold and he put on a pair of gloves.  Looking down at his hands, he decided to buy a pair of gloves that weren't black.  The LeBeaus favored them and he wanted nothing to do with the LeBeaus.  He found the bar and walked in. 

            Wolverine frowned when he saw the girl.  He walked up and sniffed discreetly.  Sure enough, she smelled young.  He sat down at the booth across from her.  He didn't really know why, but the instincts and the man both agreed that he should.  They never agreed, so he followed their orders. 

            He looked at the kid who tried to ignore him.  She was sad.  The emotion rolled off her.  It smelled a bit like chamomile and burnt salamander skin.  Logan didn't know why he cared.  Maybe coming out of the recluse life to work for Xavier was the culprit.  He was stuck with kids all day, trying to teach them to survive.  He had failed miserably.  Twice. 

            "Hey, you okay?"  Logan didn't know what he was doing.  He was just setting himself up again.  If she was a runaway, there was a good chance she would disappear into some alley next week and never make it out.  Despite that fact, he kept on.

            "Don't make beat it outta you, Kid."  The man winced at his words.  He'd always been harsh and frank, but since when did he go out of his way to act so cruel?  The answer stared at him: a pair of hazel eyes and a pair of pure yellow. 

            Kitty and Kurt, they had been the younger ones, the innocent twosome.  Scott had lived on the streets and Jean had been institutionalized after wandering in the woods for weeks.  They had survival skills, even if they chose to hide them.  Kurt and Kitty had been dreamers and now they were dead.  It was his fault.  He'd had weeks to knock it out of them -the gullibility- but he hadn't.  He'd set himself up for a fall and fallen hard.

            "I'm not homeless, if dat's what you t'ink," she said. 

            "Then why are yeh in a bar lookin' all alone?"

            The girl glared, then shrugged, "Maybe I'm a drunk."  She downed a shot to make her point.  Logan felt an urge to kill the idiot who had sold her alcohol, but suppressed it.

            "I don't doubt that," he replied, eyeing the used whiskey glasses crowded onto the table.  "How long you been here?"

            She glanced at a watch.  The expensive timepiece bristled his senses a bit, but he squashed them.  It was the twenty-first century; kids owned all sorts of pricey things and treated them like trash.  "I don't know," she said after a bit.  "Maybe an hour, probably less."  She raised a hand, but Logan snatched it and put it down before a waiter could react.  That a bar that only served drinks had booths and waiters angered Wolverine a little.  Most things did, but that was just wrong. 

            Maybe he would have appreciated it himself, but when he put a young teenager in the role of the customer, it was sickening.

            "If yer not homeless, then get home before yeh die of alcohol poisonin'."  She pulled her hand away and he grabbed it back.  She glared and he glared back.

            Finally, she looked away.  "Fine, I'll drive home."  She stood up and wobbled a little.  Logan was up in a moment, leading her out the door.  Outside, she growled, "Let me go or I'll shout rapist."

            Logan laughed, "You don't think I am one?"

            She rolled her eyes.  "De pervs don't go to work 'til after five, Homme.  Early birds, dey ain't"  The girl broke away and headed down an alley.  She pulled out a set of keys and walked to the driver's door of some foreign car.  She beeped the doors unlocked and reached for the handle.  She opened it.  Logan pushed the door shut again.

            "You're not drivin' drunk, Kid."

            She made a face, then pulled out a cell phone.  She dialed a number, waited a bit, then said, "Hi.  Yeah, it's me.  I need you to come to Malley's.  Dis guy won't let me drive home.  No, I'm not lettin' him drive me.  He's not a perv, just some responsible dick stickin' his nose where it don't belong.  No, not there.  Yeah, I'll stay in de car.  I parked in de alley.  'K, see you den."

            She beeped the phone off.  "Dere, you happy now?  Buzz off."  She got in the car and locked the doors.  Logan watched the car as he walked away, checking to see she didn't drive off.  He sighed and left the alley.  He didn't know why...how many things didn't he know the why for?  Just about everything.  Logan felt better, plain and simple.  He'd probably saved a girl's life.  But how many girls would it take until he stopped feeling guilty for Kitty?  Ah, that was something he did know. 

            He would stop feeling bad when he could go back in time and save Kitty from death.  Until then, there would be guilt.   

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

            The girl slumped down in the car seat.  She lost control and her heart began to pound ferociously.  Why had it had to be the Wolverine?  She whispered, "Take it back, Mell.  Dat two-bit assassin is more frightening den de Professor, easy.  God, Gambit, get outta dere!"  She looked at the cell in her hand.  A faked phone conversation wouldn't bring him back.  She considered actually calling him, but that would cause trouble.  Gambit would kill her if she messed him up.  He would kill her if she left. 

            God, she wanted to leave though.  Mell wanted to drive all the way home at ninety miles and hour and skid into the damned garage.  She wanted to run through those underground halls and up the five flights of stairs like a gold medal Olympist.  She wanted to get in her little closet of an apartment and lock the door all ten ways and then prop a chair under the doorknob.  She wanted to hide under the covers of her incredibly tiny bed that still took up way too much space.   

            Hell with it, she wanted Marie.  She wanted her big sister to hug her and make the world go away until she felt better.

            Mell realized she was ranting and absolutely paranoid.  The drink did that to her.  Gambit would beat her if her knew she drank and smoked.  The idiot thought she kept cigarettes in the glove box for him.  She immediately reached over and lit a stick.  Unlike Gambit, she actually smoked it.  It didn't matter to Mell that  it would kill her, Gambit would beat the cigs to the chase. 

            He wouldn't kill for smoking, but there would be blood.  That's why she did it.  She wanted to hold off the day that he killed her for as long as possible, but she still wanted to defy the bastard.  He had taken her, taken her life and turned it into a sick joke.  She remembered the seventeen year old who had pinned her to the wall.  "Eye for an eye," she sobbed.  "Blood let is blood owed."  Five years ago, Gambit had forced her little hands together and forced her to repeat that terrible LeBeau oath.

            Mell opened her eyes and looked down at her folded hands.  Every night, at every damn meal she had to say those words as if in prayer.  He knew, somehow he knew when she had not said them.  She tore her hands apart and struck the steering wheel.  The horn didn't sound.  She wanted it to.  She wanted it to scream because she couldn't.  A LeBeau's fille didn't scream.  Unless you were a Bella Donna.  Then you screamed until you were dead.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

            Wolverine sat on the roof of Malley's bar.  He watched the car, waiting for her driver to come. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*

            Xavier sat.  Of course he sat, what else could he do?  He listened to some copy of Kurt from five days ago as he tried to explain what had happened using Rogue's body.  As far as the boy could tell, Rogue had touched him and he was suddenly stuck in her head.  At first, Xavier had assumed the girl had killed Kurt, but it seemed she only put her victims in momentary comas.  Still, that little assumption taught him something.  He was grasping at straws, desperately trying to find a scapegoat for Kurt and Kitty's deaths.

            Xavier glanced at the mirror Logan had destroyed.  A broken reflection of himself glanced back.  Both men looked away quickly.  It was rude to stare at cripples. 

            Part of him paid attention to Kurt, but most of his energy was turned inward.  Part of him relived that encounter with Eric.  Magnus had killed those men, heartlessly.  There had been one former Nazi left when Charles had found them.  He tried to explain that the man had just gone along with the war to avoid persecution, but Eric hadn't listened.  They had argued for hours while a terrified man watched, tied to a tree by an iron bar.  Then their tempers had blown and the fight had begun.  It had only been blows, no powers.  That had been their rule, from the beginning.  No powers to win the chess game or win the race.

            Then the metal pole flown through the air and almost impaled Charles.  An all out war had erupted on that bit of German turf.  It was worse than the wars that had ravaged countries and destroyed populations.  It was worse because two best friends had fought to the death, unleashing powers more frightening than atomic bombs on each other. 

            It felt like years that their war raged on for.  Then Xavier had made that fatal mistake.  He stopped a piece of shrapnel from gutting the man caught in the mutants' crossfire.  He was hit from behind.  That time, Eric had succeeded in impaling his best friend with the metal pole. 

            From there, it had become a vicious war between Charles and death.  He tried so hard to hold all the blood in and keep himself alive.  Hours later, people came to investigate the screams and shouts they had heard.  The people had been terrified to come until then, the poor things. 

In the hospital, the doctors kept saying it was a miracle he had survived.  There had been no such "miracle" for the non-mutant Xavier had been trying to save.  A thousand bits of metal had been stabbed into him.  The worst, a metal bar, had been driven through so hard that it was stuck in the tree.  Years later, Charles had visited that spot.  The bar had still been there, exactly at the height of a man's heart.  He had pulled it out telepathically and buried it deep under the ground.  His friendship with Magnus deserved a decent burial he had supposed, seeing how it was dead.  There, he had promised not to let another person be killed.  That innocent man who had just been forced into the wrong position one time to many didn't deserve to die.

A little part of his mind took the image of that man pinned to the tree and gave him glowing red eyes.  Xavier marveled at it.  Wasn't what he was doing just as Eric had done?  He blamed all Nazis for the murder of his parents that had he had been forced to watch.  Later, he blamed all non-mutants for the misguided actions of a rotten few.  He blamed them rather than face the facts.  Xavier would rather blame this Remy, who he only knew was a LeBeau, than face the fact that maybe he was to blame for his students' deaths.  Maybe he could have done something, but he didn't and they were gone. 

At least Kurt still existed in Rogue's head in some fashion.  If Charles hadn't acted rashly and lashed out, the copy might never have known his real self was dead.  The boy could have been truly carefree like he deserved.  Xavier could accept the guilt for that.  He needed to go.  He reached out with a hand, wondering whether he should just let them all forget.

*Don't do that.*   Charles started at the small mental voice.

There was a knock at the door.  *Let me in, please.*

He opened the door and a small boy walked in.  He had ruddy strawberry blonde hair and the most amazing eyes.  "Please don't make them forget," he begged.  "They'll blame me for the lost hour in their lives.  I'm in enough trouble as it is."

Xavier looked at the boy, slightly amazed.  He had never seen mental shields anything like the child's.  They more like screens than anything else.  He felt...something constantly passing through those screens and something else being kept away.  They were useless for blocking telepathic invasion, but they were impressive none the less.

The boy somehow understood what Charles was thinking without using telepathy.  "I put in the shield because I was tired of the universe telling me the speed of light twenty times a second.  I don't like being told the same thing twice, but the universe doesn't care.  It just keeps shoving it down my throat.  Please don't erase their memories.  I have a bad reputation for doing that and it's a lot worse than they think.  I'll never be sit down again without pain as it is."

Xavier put down his hand.  "Very well.  I'll just have to live with this terrible moment of weakness.  I shall never fully understand how I sunk that low."

"I'll explain it to you sometime, if you'll let me visit."

He laughed.  "Why, aren't you the all-knowing brat."

*That is one of my favorite nicknames, believe it or not.* 

            *I believe it.  Visit any time.*

            The boy blinked.  *Wow, your voice is bigger than mine.*

            *Of course.  I'm older.  I am Professor Charles Franc...Charles.  My name is Charles.*

            *Jimmie.*

            Xavier laughed aloud as the elevator took him to the lobby.  *Ah, so you are this Jimmy.  I had wondered what was so important about you.  Not very much, I see.*

            *You.  Are.  A.  Bighead.*

            Xavier shook his head as Logan helped him into the passenger seat of the car.  As they drove away, he smiled.  "At least he didn't call me Baldy."

            *Don't be too sure I won't...Mush Mind.*

***

Whoa, that was long.  Do not expect another one like this anytime soon. 

Um, that wasn't very good.  I tried.  Xavier and Logan acted rashly in grief and now they are going home, leaving Rogue and Remy alone in a hotel room.  Well, almost.  Hey, what about Cara?  She's going to be mighty confused when she wakes up.  Sigh, I guess someone's mind is going to be wiped. 

And what is going on with Mell?  We'll find out later.  Before anyone asks, she is the baby sister of the assassin who tried to kill Remy in Disney World.  You know, the one that Remy killed.  No wonder she hates his guts.

***

Review Responses

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Well, there aren't going to be many, but here we go

^_^ :  Glad you liked the dark Charles.  Unfortunately, I think I broke him this chapter.  Prof is stronger than Jimboy, but he's older.  Only time will tell.

Forgotten Havok:  Oh dear, people must really be confused now.  Forgive me.  At least it was humorous in places...I hope.      

Devilgoth:  Well shoot.  I really wanted to win the prize!  There was a prize, right?  Did I update fast enough?  Well, Charles didn't really turn out as the evil old man, just a human dotard...I love that word...sorry.

Turquoise:  Carrie = Charles...okay.  I'm seeing the professor in a dress with blood dripping down his bald head as he floats around killing people.  You are so right, he is Carrie!  I'm not ripping on you.  It was just such a funny image I had to share it.  Yeah, the heart thing was more of a threat that he might be able to do if he put his mind to it (pun intended).  Then again, if he can levitate objects and control minds as easy as breathing, why couldn't he just reach in and stop the heart from moving?  Anyway, it scared Remy to death and that was the point.

Star-of-Chaos:  I checked it out.  Cool!  Anyways, Xavier didn't bother to read Remy's mind.  Remy does have some powerful shielding on volatile information, like passwords, etc.  But why would Knave pay to guard his son's mind in general?  He just doesn't care that much, sad to say.

Lara-belle:  I like "Upgrades." too.  Did it sound too Matrix-like?  It just occurred to me that Neo said something similar in the 2nd movie...damn.  Well, does that explain the Xavier thing?  It was really bad.  I can't do old people.  Apologies to the elderly, but I just can't do it.

Lonewolf:  Question.  Do you like Lupe?  ...sorry.  Of course Rogue stays with him.  This story has yet to begin.  Yes, I know that sounds weird but believe me when I say I love you...wrong tragedy.  Believe me when I say I have a long ways to go before I get halfway to the climax.  I'm STILL setting up the scene, can you believe it?     

Okay, so there were a few.  Ciao...oh why not.

Eternity Out.