Beaubier: You get to see what in the Chapter.

Sue Penkivech: Well the boys are just frustrated that's all. And I'll post some more on Icekateers soon.

ManualImpact: I haven't watched too much of XM: Evolution but I know what you mean. I played with the idea of writing Xavier's instructions since I never read about it before. But

when I wrote it down it just sounded like he was telling them to use the force.

Bobby and I weren't fighting as much as we use to, mainly because we now had a common foe. (At least that was what the Professor Xavier was making himself in my eyes.) After dinner I found the kid alone in our dorm. The 'Closet' had a couple of repairs done to it, thanks in no small part to Scott. All the mouse holes had been covered up at least. (He claimed it would keep them out, I just hoped it didn't keep them in.) Bobby was inspecting the said repairs when I entered.

"Find any of our furry friends?" I asked in my would-be-causally tone.

"Nope, looks like Slims' squealing scared them off for good." He replied with his usual mischievous smirk. "He's still sore about it though."

"And you have nothing to do about that, right?" My sarcastic remark slipped out before I could stop it. To my surprised Bobby laughed.

"Oh come on! The guy was yelling, 'it's in my pants' fer crying out loud! What did he expect me to do, send flowers?"

Now was as good a time any. I cleared my throat nervously, preparing myself for my first ever humble approach. Bobby looked over to me expectantly and I froze. How do you begin one of these talks? Swallowing the growing lump in my throat I decided to do what came natural. I would wing it.

"Look kid, about the dog tags…I didn't--I did take it but I…" Well this was going nicely. Not only did I lose my flair with words, but I sounded like a complete idiot as well. Great, just great. "Not that I meant to--"

"I know, I talked to Scott…he believes you did mean to steal it." Bobby says giving me a small anxious smile. "I over-reacted a bit, didn't I?"

I had to grin at that; that was putting it mildly. "Yeah, but things were getting out of hand. We're driving everyone nuts." He nodded, not really looking at me. There was an awkward moment where we both seemed to be frantically searching for the right words to say. In those tense minutes I only could come up with the topic that had been plaguing my curiosity. Not sure it was a proper question to be asking I urged myself on. As usual I was feeling reckless. "Why is it so important to you?"

The kids' head shot up in surprise. Mouth agape his hand wandered to the metal chain that I had just noticed hanging on his neck. His eyes (which to my discomfort were still blue) searched mine. Bobby looked so young and vulnerable at that moment that I could barely recognize him as the impish prankster I had come to know. Finally he seemed to decide if I deserved an answer or not.

 "My dad gave it to me, for my thirteenth birthday. He said he wanted me to learn about responsibility—and that actions have consequences. He…he said I could only keep it if I learned some discipline." Bobby pauses then he actually laughs. A harsh un-Bobby like laugh that doesn't really suit him. "Not that I'd ever learn any." I winced; those were pretty much the words the Professor used on us today. You know it had to be bad if even my ego was taking a dive. I'm not sure if he noticed how uncomfortable I was or he just couldn't stand silences too long but he quickly changed the subject.

"Umm…is there anything on your mind Warren?" He asked. That caught me by off guard. Since when did the kid call me anything other than parakeet, big bird or chicken boy? I've never been one to look a gifted horse in the mouth so I just took the incident at face value.

"Huh? Oh right, listen kid we got a problem with the Prof--"

"Tell me something I don't know."

"I will if you give me a chance. We have to do something about it, find out what's up with him."

"And how do we do that? That'll be a fun conversation: 'Hey Professor, we all think you've been acting like a first class jerk, wanna talk about it?' Yeah, that'll make a nice class; we'll probably be put into comas!" Bobby exclaimed.

I rolled my eyes at his over the top reaction. "If you're planning on doing that Bobby you can leave me out of it. I have a less direct approach in mind."

His brow furrowed. "Did you tell this to Scott?"

"No."

"Why not?" He asked.

"Would you?" I countered. Scott was far too goody-goody for this. After all of the berating I received all day I did NOT need to hear Scotts' option on it.

"Point taken. So what's your idea?" He asked with that classic grin that I knew meant nothing but trouble.

______________

For the next few days the Professor grew more and more frustrated with our lack of improvement. With him contently losing his patients with us, we dreaded each day. We had lost what little confidence we had and were messing up more often than not. Even Scott lost his cool with us and started arguing about our lack of skill. Duncan had managed to get the Prof to loosen his hold of us enough to begin new classes. He taught us some basic first aid and the 'peer reliance' session.

Basically we were to go through sessions that we could only complete by depending on another team mate. Our first class was a disaster when we spent the whole hour and a half fight among ourselves. Things improved slightly when Scott led us through a fake town. It was just like one of those police shooting ranges where the cardboard cutouts shot out of no where. The object was for Bobby and me to let Scott do all the work. He was timed on how fast he could take out his 'adversaries'. Duncan pointed out that given his lack of response to two of the hidden 'villains' Bobby and I would be dead. Scott demanded that we do it again. He did better the second time but he still 'killed' five instead of 'disarming.' (Which meant aiming for the cutouts weapons.) Things were bad and I knew I had to find out why, and soon.

My plan had been to search Professor Xaviers' makeshift office while he and Duncan were out. There were two problems with my strategy. One: they were NEVER out and two: we didn't have the passkey to open the office. My partner in crime informed me that he had taken care of it. I was almost afraid to ask.

"Come on, we'll hide here until the he come out of his office." Bobby said pulling me behind a tree near the building.

"Do I want to know why he'll be leaving?"

"Probably not." He responded cheerfully. I swore to myself then and there that I would make an effort not to get on the kids' bad side anymore. He's better to have as an ally than an enemy. Suddenly the flung the door open, and Duncan quickly wheeled the Professor out towards the kitchen. We rushed off towards the door when Bobby created ice door jam. "Not bad kiddo. What DID you do though?" I said eyeing him warily.

"Hmm…oh I just slipped some hot pepper; and hot sauce into Slims' food. Among other things I did…"

"Why?" I had to ask.

"He knows why."

"Uhh…right." I muttered slipping into the room. "Now where should we look firs--oh god…" The far wall on the opposite us was completely covered in newspaper clippings. Bobby slowly moved towards the wall as if in some type of trace. I followed him. My stomach clenching when I read the headlines.

'Deadly blaze in Phoenix kills hundreds, are mutants to blame?' 'Local teen killed on sight after being suspected mutant.' I scanned the stories about how mobs had tortured mutants. Shaved a furry one, lit another on fire, beaten to death…I shuddered when I saw the picture of a girl that had her bat-like wing ripped off her. I was shaking like a leaf when I finished the last paragraph of her story. Next to that was an image of a man wielding a flame thrower that had gone after a water breathing kid. I felt nauseous as I imaged that man coming after Bobby.

I quickly glanced over at the kid to see how he was taking this. His arms clung tightly around himself, his pale face staring straight ahead. Three clipping hang in front of him. One about a lynching, another about mutants killing 'normal' people and one about a suicide in New York. This must have been too much for the poor kid to handle.

"Come on Bobby, let's get out of here…" I urged him, but he wouldn't move. "We don't belong here--"

"No, you do not." I groaned. Sitting on the other side of the door was our dear Professor.

A/N: Just in case you ask, the Professor was alerted to something being wrong with Scott when he rushed off. He didn't know what it was only that he sensed something was wrong.