A:N: Abaiisiia, you're going to be mad at me. This chapter is very short, but the next one I made extra long so it would make it up to you. So please, don't hurt me.

I am Professor Charles Xavier.

I teach children.

The infirmary is cold, clinical; the harsh glare of the overhead light making it seem ugly. I am stationed here with Remy, Ororo, Logan and Hank. The students are asleep. It is three in the morning. There is an unidentified mutant collapsed on the couch, where Kurt put her. Hank is slowly administering an IV. This is the way I have learned to separate my thoughts, into small little compartments. This is the way I function.

Hank sighs, gorilla-like hands reaching back to massage his tense shoulders. Turning towards the group he says, "I've done all I can do. If she wakes up, it'll be of her own will. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be going to sleep."

Logan nods, as does Ororo, and they depart. I am left with Remy, who is staring at me with less than a friendly look on his face. I wheel myself around so that I am facing him. Turning my voice as cold and severe as I can I say, "I hope you know that you will not be allowed on any more missions."

He snorts, shuffling cards in his hands. It is distracting. "Oh no, Monsieur Xavier, I made a mockery of your "fact-finding mission" by saving someone's life." He gestures towards the still form of the albino girl. "You have done ten recovery missions, and you pick up mutants most of the time. So why is this any different?"

"This time," I say, "You put your group in danger. You didn't follow directions. You didn't act like part of the team. You acted so rash; like-" I stop in my tracks, knowing I have gone too far.

His glare turns frigid, "Like Rogue?" He advances towards me, crimson eyes locked securely with my own. "I may not have telepathy, but I sure as hell know you weren't Rogue's teacher, Professor." One does not have to search to find the acidic edge on that statement, and I nearly recoil with the force of it.

"I couldn't help Rogue," I say, scrambling to find a solid defense, "Her mutation was unlike anything I had ever seen, I-"

"Don't you dare try to make this her fault, you horrible excuse for a mutant! She gave up her life for your fucking hopeless ideal, and you act like it wasn't the most terrible waste!"

I stare, my hands gripping the handles of my wheelchair. "I couldn't help Rogue," I say, as if repeating will make it true.

"Couldn't,' he says, just as the shuffling of the cards stops, "or wouldn't?"

He spins about on his heel, brown trench coat flapping, before slamming the door. I slump forward, resting my head in my hands. "Oh God," I whimper, "I couldn't help my own student."

"He's right you know."

"Logan!" And it is, standing in the doorframe like it's the most natural thing in the world. He smiles, though it isn't a happy, before striding into the room, and taking a seat on the edge of the unoccupied couch. "Chuck, Remy is right, and you're gonna have to admit it."

I sigh, "I know, I know."

"But why Chuck, why wouldn't you help her?" He rests his elbows on his knees, and I am struck by how much like me he looks. Revulsion rises, but I force it down. I must organize my thinking again.

"I am Professor Charles Xavier.

I teach children."

Logan smirks, his canines emerging from between his lips. This man was once my friend, though if I ever doubted that he had become my enemy, I would have known it now. "You wouldn't help her," he says, his voice so cold I know it must be truth, "because you were afraid. You knew that if she gained control of her powers, she would be so great that your little tricks wouldn't work on her anymore. She wouldn't follow you; she would destroy your ideal team of superheroes. They're children, Chuck! High school students running around like stupid little puppets! Kids, somebody's son or daughter, killing another child! Don't you see how wrong that is? Or are you so fucking deluded that you can't?"

"I teach all children."

"No," he says, burning, "You teach the children who will do exactly what you say. You make them your soldiers. They fight for you. Live for you. Die for you. And that is why you hated Rogue. Because she didn't listen to your self-indulgent prophesies. Because you were too weak to help her think for herself. Because she could tear your little team apart with a wave of her gloved hand. But," he says, a small smile on his face, "I guess she did that anyway, even though she's dead."

My hands begin to shake, and I feel a sob rising, "Oh god, she did didn't she? Kitty hates me, Kurt hates me, Remy...Remy never liked me, and you-" I stop.

"And I would kill you in a minute if it would bring Rogue back."

I press the heels of my palms to my eyes, trying to do anything to block out the memories of Rogue that are now flooding my head. Organize your thoughts, I tell myself.

I speak out loud, not caring that Logan is nearby.

"I am Professor Charles Xavier,

I teach children."

Logan snorts, but I ignore it.

"My team is invincible.

I am their leader."

Logan stands up, claws unsheathed, before stalking out the door. I continue unabated.

"They follow me.

They fight for me.

They live for me.

They die for me."

I smile as I say the next part,

"Just. Like. Rogue."

Next Chapter: "It was a full month and a half after the Red Block mission, when a blizzard prevented everyone from going to school, that the young albino woman awoke." And boy, did she have something to say.