Chapter Eight – Daybreak

"Wakey wakey, sleepy-head."

Ray groaned and turned over, pulling his pillow over his face. The far-too-cheerful voice giggled. Something poked his exposed shoulder.

"Go 'way."

"At least he's awake," said another, slightly huskier voice. It was still feminine, and for a second he didn't recognise it. That is, until his protective pillow was ripped away and the owner grinned down at him like an early-morning gargoyle.

"Fuckit! Gimmie!" He clawed to reclaim the pillow, blinking blearily at the bright lights and wondering where the hell he was. "Jubes!"

"I just love the sound of expletives in the morning," Jubilee sniggered, dancing out of his grasp. She was dressed, washed, and chipper enough to let him know that she wasn't going to give up until he was fully awake doing the same. Ray groaned, and would've flopped backwards had it not involved smashing his head on the floor tiles.

"Well I don't," said the first voice, which materialised into Rahne. She poked his shoulder again. "Wash your mouth out with soap, young man. It's far too early for that kinna' language." She was smiling as she said it, and again when she gripped the edge of his blankets and yanked them back, exposing him to the cold, cold world of early morning in the Infirmary.

"Shit-meister!" Ray cried, loosing several more curses as he curled into a foetal position to retain heat. Then he stopped.

The Infirmary?

Memories of the previous night came crashing in like a wave, swirling around his befuddled thoughts as a mental riptide. He gave a fresh groan at the thought of what he'd done – what he'd said. He'd betrayed the Morlocks' trust, told all but their most guarded of secrets. Yet it hardly mattered anymore, since disaster had overtaken them long before his grossly flapping mouth could.

Grief washed over his heart, brief but biting, and his chest tightened. He scrubbed the back of his head at the strangeness of the emotion. He'd never come into contact with death beyond watching a hearse trawl down the street. It was an odd feeling. Especially since he still wasn't entirely sure who he was supposed to be mourning and whom not.

Wait a sec... His brain made several connections, culminating in him sitting bolt upright with a cry. "Feral?"

"Right next to you," Beast told him as he emerged from the back room, clipboard in one hand and a piece of half-munched toast in the other. His spectacles sat rakishly on top of his head.

The empty plate in Rahne's hand explained what the two girls had been doing down in the med-lab instead of on their way to school. Obviously, torturing him was just an optional extra. Faboo.

Ray scrambled to his feet. Yes, Feral was indeed still in the bed next to him, and he regretted the hasty action as several vertebrae clicked and cracked back into place.

Rahne pursed her lips. "Ouch. That didn't sound good."

"What didn't?" Jubilee blinked.

Rahne pointed with the plate, sending a few superfluous crumbs flying. As she waggled it back and forth it tumbled from her grasp, dislodging the remaining breadcrumbs and scattering them all over the floor Ray had so recently vacated. "His back – oops."

"You can hear that?"

"Of course. Wolf hearing, remember?" She bent down, trying to scoop the mess back onto the plate and failing abysmally as they skittered off in all directions. "Bugger, I'm all staticky. Here, little crumbs. Come to Rahne."

Jubilee laughed, high and flutey. "Run little crumbs, run while you still can! Fly free!"

"Stoppit! You're giving them ideas."

Their easy banter flowed back and forth, and Ray regarded the two of them for a moment in surprise. They were acting so... normal. Like he hadn't just last night admitted to being a sewer-dwelling hobo, and didn't know a mutant who had broken into the mansion and tried to gut some of their teammates under cover of darkness.

As fresh recollections of his midnight tête-à-tête filtered through the ether, he wondered what the heck they were playing at. Jubilee usually enjoyed taunting him, and he'd given her plenty of fresh fodder. Enough to last the rest of the school year, at least. He'd been expecting... some kind of a reaction, not them acting like nothing had happened.

Had Feral not been lying, bold as brass on the bed before him, he might've ventured at the whole incident as just a dream.

Ever tactful, and still grumpy from an uncomfortable night, he put the question to them. "What the hell are you two doing?"

"Bringing Mr. McCoy his breakfast, of course." Jubilee smiled sweetly, but her eyes danced.

"Not that – that." Ray spread his palms wide.

Rahne leaned over to her friend, whispering theatrically behind her hand. "Methinks all the fumes in here got to him." The hand dropped, and when she smiled it was a genuine one. "We thought you could use a wake-up call, what with it already being quarter to eight and all, and you not having an alarm clock down here." She inclined her head at Feral, whose eyes were still firmly closed, and whose breathing hadn't changed a jot from the deep, steady breaths of the night before. "How is she?"

"Uh," Ray replied, realising he didn't have an answer. So instead he opted for his usual response. "Why do you care?"

Jubilee cuffed him around the ear. "Why shouldn't we care? Sounds like the poor thing's gone through enough already for us not to add bad feeling on top of that. You should stop being so mistrustful all the time. Takes years off your life and puts lines on your face. In fact," she jabbed a finger at his forehead, "I think I see a few new ones right there. You're gonna look like an old man soon."

Reflexively, Ray touched the spot, and then scowled at her. "Ha-freakin'-ha, Miss Comedian." Yet there was little power behind the words. Truth be told, though tiny, their display was a relief - as well as serving to heap yet more guilt upon him that he hadn't trusted the X-Men enough with his secrets. Couldn't be helped. Had to keep the oath. Yeah, the oath...

Rahne frowned. "I don't like that look. Cheer up." She squeezed his arm. He looked down at her hand, then up into her face. There was something in her eyes – something besides the friendliness she always seemed to exude.

Pity.

Ray's chest tightened again, though for quite a different reason. He shook her off. Pity was something he didn't need. Never had done, never would. His expression slammed shut. He regarded the two girls coolly, and Rahne took a step back.

Almost slipped, there, he thought, remonstrating himself. They may talk big, but they still don't understand. Nobody can around this place. Not with their cushy lives and soft pasts. Pity ain't what I'm after. No. A small blossom of something akin to resentment stirred in his gut, but it fluttered away again as a large, furry hand grasped his shoulder.

"As fetching as those pyjamas are, I doubt your teachers would appreciate you turning up to class in them." Beast popped the last bit of burnt bread into his mouth and swallowed with barely a chew. "Chop chop, or you'll be late."

"What? But I thought - " Ray glanced at the bed. "Can't I stay here? She ain't woken up yet."

"Actually, I think she did sometime during the night." Hank plucked at a readout and studied it for a moment, frowning. Then he looked up, casting his gaze about in such a manner as made Jubilee giggle.

"Mr. McCoy?"

"Yes?"

"They're on your head."

"Excuse me?" Beast patted his hair, then jolted forward to catch his spectacles as they slid from their perch. "Ah, so they are. Thank you, Jubilation."

She pulled a face at his use of her full name, but Rahne touched her arm and told her to leave the matter with a shake of her head. Jubilee gave her a hard look, then sighed and dropped her arms from where they'd been folded across her chest.

Ray watched them from the corner of one eye, wondering what it would be like to have a friendship where you could have an entire conversation without saying a word. Then he shook his head again. Twice in one morning? You're getting soft. "She woke up?" he asked, banishing all thoughts but the ones directly responsible for speech.

"Mmm-hmm." Beast nodded, not fully concentrating as his eyes scanned the lines of numbers, dots and squiggles that meant nothing to anybody else in the room. "It seems your presence here calmed her a little, though there was some disturbance." He pointed to a graph, and a large spike that signalled increased brain activity. It tapered off into a wide curve, then became a smooth-ish line tracking the reams of paper.

"So she's just asleep?" Ray's voice dropped instinctively.

"Well, I had to give her a little sedative just now, but essentially, yes."

"Sedative?" His voice rose again, sharp and slightly accusing.

Beast raised a hand. "Nothing too major, and nothing that would harm her biological system, either. I took the liberty of running a few tests while you both slumbered to get the dosage right."

"But why put her back under again? Isn't it a good thing she woke up in the first place?"

"Yes and no." Beast carefully tore off the stack of printouts and folded the uppermost sheet to write the time on the back. "Some of her injuries have become a little infected, and the procedure of cleaning them up might be painful. Given the circumstances, I'd rather her first impressions of me weren't pain and indignity, thank you very much."

Ray grunted, seeing the sense behind the words but still not liking them one iota. "I wanna stay with her."

"I really do think it would be better if you went to school," Beast said patiently, demonstrating the skills he'd learned as a teacher dealing with hundreds of petulant pupils. "There's very little you can do here, Mr. Crisp."

"I can..." Ray started, and then trailed off, looking for something to say in his defence. "I can... be here. For her."

"After school," Beast said firmly. "Quite honestly, I'll be treating Miss, uh... Feral most of the time between now and then, so there would be little to keep you interested around the Institute today. Besides which, a little bird tells me your academia wouldn't benefit from any undue absences."

Ray scowled, and though he didn't know it, over his head both Rahne and Jubilee were making cutting motions across their throats and shaking their heads. If Beast noticed, however, he gave no sign, and simply gazed tolerantly at his perhaps most difficult student.

"Bring my bad grades into it, why don't you?"

"That wasn't my intention, actually. Obviously my oratorical skills are lacking this morning. All I was trying to put across was that Miss Feral will be requiring most of my attention, and there is little you can do to aid her now that you couldn't do post-school this afternoon." He peered over the rims of his spectacles almost expectantly.

Ray drew himself up, shaking off the last vestiges of sleep and stirring himself for a whip-crack retort. Yet, all at once, the wind went out of his sails. He looked at Feral's still form, taking in the beeping machinery, the whitewashed walls and the sparkling tiles of the Infirmary. His feet chose that moment to remind him how cold they were, sending tingles up his legs and making every hair on his body stand up in an effort to conserve some semblance of warmth. He rubbed indecisively at his nose.

Whether he was about to say something or not, all words ceased as the door to the med-lab opened and a familiar shaggy blonde head poked in. All four conscious occupants turned to look, and the face flushed under their gaze.

"Uh, sorry to interrupt y'all, but... uh..." Sam stammered, thrown by the tension crackling in the air into forgetting what he was about to say.

Ray narrowed his eyes. Sam was another of the Institute's residents who fell under the generic name New Mutant, as did Jubilee, Rahne, and himself – in fact, all those students who joined the X-Men at the beginning of the preceding school year were collected together and termed the New Mutants, or New Recruits. As such, most people imagined all those who went by that moniker were 'the best of friends', since they were rarely referred to individually, and tended to be trained as a group.

They couldn't, however, have been further from the truth.

Take Sam, for instance. He was a friendly soul, always open to conversation with others, but his closest bonds were most undoubtedly with Rahne and Jubilee. 'The odd couple plus one', as Ray had once labelled them. They generally went around as a trio, and wherever you found one, another was no doubt close by. Yet the older students, the 'real' X-Men, barely acknowledged this bond, choosing instead to go by first impressions and absorb them into the collective idiom 'New Mutants'.

It irked Ray as much, if not more, than the title 'Institute kids' at school.

Beast rescued Sam from his uncomfortable hemming and hawing by clipping a sheet of paper to his clipboard with a loud 'SNAP'. "Good morning, Mr. Guthrie. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Sam blinked, then scratched the back of his head and stepped into the room properly, allowing the doors to slide shut behind him. "Um, I just came to say that Scott's carpool will be leavin' soon, an'... an'..." Surprisingly, he was grinning beneath his blush, like he'd just stumbled upon some great joke and was simply bursting to tell someone. Yet, being Sam, he was too bashful to just come out and say it. Seeing Ray in the room had made him tongue-tied – visibly an after-effect of the admission last night.

Ray folded his arms. Sam was one of those unfortunate souls who, when someone scratched, was immediately convinced it was because he had fleas. Everything was always his fault, and sometimes it took the combined efforts of both Rahne and Jubilee to convince him otherwise. Needless to say, this got on Ray's infamously short nerves, and since this morning he was already halfway toward a foul temper, Sam's dilly-dallying lit the fuse extra quickly.

"Just come out and say it if you're gonna say it, Farmboy," he snapped, once again using a nickname he knew was disliked.

Sam turned beet red, and Jubilee shot Ray a dark look. She might've bitten his head off, but the taller boy gabbled out his words quicker than she and cut her off.

"You guys just gotta see this. It's... it's just too funny."

"See what?" Rahne raised an eyebrow, but Sam just shook his head.

"I can't tell y'all. That'd spoil it. You just... aw heck, just come an' take a gander an' see for yourselves." He cast a glance at Beast. "Uh, that is, if'n you don't need 'em for aught, Mr. McCoy..."

Beast waved a hand. "Go on, be off with you. As I was telling Mr. Crisp, there's little for any of you down here. Go back out into the sunlight and leave this old fogey to his work." He fixed an eye on Ray. "All of you."

"Uh, actually," Sam toed the floor tiles, "Professor Xavier wants a word with you, Ray. Sent me down to fetch you to his study, so if you'll just come with me - "

"I can find it by myself," Ray said snappishly, taking a final glance at both Feral and Beast, and then roughly shouldering his way to the door. "Contrary to popular belief, I'm not a complete retard."

Ray entered the study without knocking, since the door was half open. The Professor was sitting behind his desk, waiting for him. The scene was so reminiscent of the previous night that he had to stop and look out the window at the streaming daylight to make sure he wasn't experiencing some creepy kind of déjà vu.

Outside was a tall poplar tree, branches extended toward the window like questing fingers tapering to thin, twisted points. The smattering of greenery did nothing to conceal the tiny bird's nest squeezed into the framework. The mother atop her eggs trilled in the crisp morning air. She was tiny, and the tree dwarfed her utterly, yet her song was strong and clear, unabashed by the raw majesty with which she was surrounded.

For some inexplicable reason, Ray found himself staring at the creature for several seconds, until Professor Xavier's polite cough drew him back to the world of the waking. Then he blinked profusely, green dots obfuscating his vision even as he took the proffered seat.

"If you're gonna start with that 'you know why I've called you' crap then you can forget it. 'Cause I don't."

Xavier's expression remained astutely neutral. He steepled his fingers beneath his chin, as was his habit. "I didn't expect you to, actually. I just called you to see if you wanted to... talk."

That threw him. Ray blinked again, and this time it was nothing to do with staring too long at reflected sunlight. "Talk? Why would I wanna do that? I did enough talking last night, thanks."

Xavier nodded. "Yes, I know. And didn't you feel better for it?"

It was a simple question, but one which Ray took a second to answer. Had he felt better for spouting so much to the other X-Men? "Yeah..." he admitted. "I guess so. It felt... kinda good to tell someone about... stuff."

Another nod. "Ray, I'll be blunt. You've suffered a great loss. I just wanted to give you the opportunity to talk to an open ear if you felt so inclined. Talking has been proven as a great help to those going through stress or trauma. When my... when I was first put into a wheelchair, I found it useful talking to someone about how I was feeling rather than bottling everything up inside of myself."

"So you wanna play psychiatrist? Is that it?"

He spread his hands wide. "I'd like to listen. If you want me to, that is. I'm not pressuring you, Ray. You might like to talk to someone other than me – one of the other students, perhaps? Or another member of staff? But I'd advise you to talk to somebody about what you found out last night."

He hadn't said it yet. Trying to be diplomatic, Ray supposed. "The Morlocks." He filled in the blank with customary brusqueness. Then he unfolded his arms and let them drape either side of the chair's armrests, refraining from picking at them this time. "I don't need to talk to anybody else."

"Ray, I really do think - "

"You'll do just fine."

"...Oh." Xavier blinked. Then his face creased into a wry smile. "I suppose I walked into that one, didn't I?"

"You can cut the crap, Professor. You wanna know how I feel about this whole thing so I don't spontaneously combust or something, right?"

"You have a certain way with words, Ray, but that's essentially it. Restraining emotion and feelings, only to stew on them later is a dangerous, potentially self-destructive thing." He sucked in a lungful of air, and then let it out through his teeth, as if what he was saying was difficult. "Just look at Juggernaut."

Ray looked up. He nodded, slowly. "Yeah... I guess." Like all the non-original X-Men who had battled Juggernaut, Ray had been related the tale on several different occasions, and knew all about the Professor's connections.

"So, at the risk of sounding, uh, cheesy," Xavier struggled slightly with the colloquialism, but ploughed on regardless, "how do you feel right now?"

"I don't feel all mushy and sad. But I do feel angry. Big surprise, huh?"

"Angry?" His brows pulled together. "About what? Surely you're not angry at yourself for sharing your secrets with the other students?"

"That too, but not so much as I thought I would. Like I said, it felt kinda... good to tell them about stuff." Ray shrugged. "I'm angry at what made me have to tell 'em in the first place. I feel like... like I wanna find that Sevarius jerk and - " He punched a fist into the palm of his other hand.

"Ah. It might not seem like it, but actually, that kind of reaction is perfectly normal."

"The Morlocks never did anything to him," Ray went on regardless. "We – they, were just living, and he thought he could just waltz down there and do what liked because he could! Because he wanted to! It just... ach!" Sparks of electricity crackled through his stiff bangs, demonstrating his anger where words could not. "And you know what the worst part is?"

Xavier shook his head, despite it being a rhetorical question.

"I don't know who's still alive and who's not. It's like... some kinda limbo, if that makes sense. I never had to grieve for nobody before, and now it feels like I should be doing a helluva lot of grieving, and I can't, because I'm not sure who I'm supposed to be doing it for. And I can't even go find out, neither, because of that stupid law." Ray sighed, rubbing the back of his collar where the percale was itching. "Y'know what I mean?"

"I can't say that I'm totally familiar with the situation; but yes, I do know what you mean." Xavier laid his hands flat on the table. "Suspended grief is surprisingly common. Feral's presence here may actually have a positive influence, since you know that, if one of the Morlocks survived, more may also have done. The fact that she came specifically to you for help may also be a constructive thing. If you can do something for her, then - "

"I won't feel so bad for leaving when they needed me," Ray cut in. At Xavier's surprised expression, he raised his shoulders to touch his ears. "You were just gonna take five sentences to dress it up and say it nice. Thought I'd beat you to the punch. Professor, I know all that. I got my second chance when I came here, and now... it's like I can help Feral have hers. And... maybe... just maybe, I can... make up for what I did... before."

Xavier didn't need his telepathy to see the thought process crossing Ray's face. He leaned forward in earnest. "Ray, you shouldn't feel guilty about coming here – about leaving the Morlocks. You did nothing wrong."

Ray met his gaze, and there was something written in his eyes that Xavier had never seen there before. It looked almost like... culpability. Regret. The soft tone of voice he next used was also incongruous.

"I think I'd like to go now." Ray let a breath out through his nostrils and dropped his line of sight to the carpet he was currently scuffing with his bare foot. "Look, Professor, I appreciate you taking the time to do this and all, but really, I'm okay. Just so long as I can help Feral, I won't go off on one and burn down the fucking school or anything psycho, all right? I've watched documentaries before – with Mr. McCoy in the house, it's kind a hard to get away from the Discovery Channel. Anyway, I know that people deal with... with death in different ways. I'm not as upset about this whole mess as I thought I would be. I suppose, since I've been gone for a whole year, it doesn't hurt so bad as... I mean... but... if Feral... aw fuckit! Look, I'll be fine. Just let me get on with things my way and I'll be okay."

Xavier nodded, a practised, almost fatherly action. "I won't say I understand, because only you know how you really feel, Ray. But I want you to know that, should you want to talk any more about this – or anything else, for that matter – I'm always here. One of the reasons I opened this Institute was to help young mutants learn about their powers, but that's not to say I mean to neglect all others parts of your lives."

Ray rose from his seat. Then he stopped, balancing on the edge. "Aw shit, I forgot the time! I'm not even dressed yet, and Mr. McCoy said I had to fucking well go to school!"

"Mr. McCoy is working to the theorem that keeping to a routine will keep your mind occupied and so not allow you to dwell overmuch on anything... painful," Xavier said simply. "Harsh as it may sound, I'm inclined to agree with him." He glanced at the clock. "That's not to say I can't write a note for the office explaining why you're late, if you want to pay a last visit to the Infirmary before leaving. Logan or Ororo can run you down to the school in the X-Van." He thought for a moment and then amended himself. "Ororo will run you down to school in the X-Van."

Ray didn't say anything for a second, and Xavier wondered if he'd taken too much liberty.

However...

"Thanks Professor."

"For the last time, no!"

"Pleeeeeeeease? Pretty, pretty please? With a cherry on top?"

"Kurt! I said no!"

Scott trawled through the foyer, hop-skipping on his crutches as fast as he could, and with a fuzzy blue limpet in hot pursuit. Kurt danced around his friend's legs, darting in front and causing him to pull up short.

Scott looked over his shoulder at the small crowd that was gathering in their wake. Young and old X-Men alike stood pseudo-nonchalantly, hiding giggles behind their hands and notebooks at the comedy-drama playing out before them. At the forefront he could see Jean snickering behind her flimsy Psychology textbook, and for a second he was struck by the incongruous question of why the inner working of the human psyche – by all accounts an intricate network of wrong turns and all sorts of other technical mumbo jumbo – could be condensed into such a tiny book.

He shook his head, trying to concentrate on the elf that had been following him around since he left his room, and had yet to let up on his crusade. Well, actually Kurt had been waiting for Scott the moment he woke up, perched upside down on the ceiling like a grinning gargoyle, inserted while the X-Men leader slept. Still, the sentiment was still the same.

Scott had tried everything to shake him off, but Kurt refused to leave until parted by classes at school – or else he got the answer he wanted. The answer Scott had refused to give thus far on principle, if nothing else.

He rounded awkwardly on Kurt, wishing his foot was well enough to stamp. "Kurt, no! You are not driving my car to school!"

"Aw, come on, man. Be a sport. It's not like you can do it with a bum leg." Kurt grinning, showing his fangs.

"That's not the point."

"Then what is the point? You can't drive, and the carpool kinda depends on a car, if you hadn't noticed."

"Wise guy."

"I know."

"The point is, the last – and only – time I let you behind the wheel of my baby, you scratched all the paintwork doing I don't know what, and brought it back needing an unpunctured tyre and new radiator."

"Details, details, who cares about details?"

"Me!"

Kurt pouted and folded his arms. "So... what then? Or were you intending on all of us staying home today?"

Scott cast a pleading glance at Jean, but she just shrugged helplessly since she was carpooling with Duncan when he arrived. Rogue was already long gone on her step-through, and obviously none of the younger recruits were old enough – or, if they were, he didn't count them as responsible enough to handle his baby. Bobby in particular shrank away from his gaze, as did Sam and Jubilee when they appeared from a side corridor with Rahne.

Ray was nowhere to be seen, and some small part of Scott felt glad for that. Needless to say, he also instantly felt excessively guilty for thinking such a thing, but he had to admit to himself that he really couldn't face that particular verbal minefield right now.

Putting the thought out of mind, Scott even tried looking at Kitty, but she just mirrored Jean's shrug. She was old enough to drive, sure, but one of Kitty's few faults was that she'd never actually taken her test. It had something to do with her Dad not wanting to lend her the family car at home, if he remembered right, and Kitty had always been quite happy to accept rides off people with cars so there had never been any pressing need for her to learn.

Not that any of that helped Scott now.

"Scott!" Kurt bounded in front of him, grinning and swinging his tail as if to grab his crutch.

"Kurt! Leave off! Go grow wings or something. Or ask Amanda to run you to school."

"Excuse me? Scott, Amanda lives on the other side of town. Or had that slipped your mind?"

It had, but that wasn't about to stop Scott's vain battle to keep his car, if not perfect, then at least in one piece.

In actuality he knew that his argument was flawed, as was evidenced by the growing number of students in the foyer clamouring for a ride. Early morning carpool was always a struggle, what with the race to avoid public transport by nabbing a ride in his convertible; but today it was proving doubly so. The dull ache in his ankle wasn't helping.

Calm down, Jean's 'voice' soothed.

I'm trying, but Kurt's making it very difficult. He just doesn't know when to let go -

As if to punctuate this, Kurt grabbed one of Scott's hands and got down on one knee, batting his eyelids. Whether a by-product of his mutation or something else, Kurt had been blessed with extra long, bushy eyelashes, and when they fluttered, they really fluttered.

"You have beautiful eyes, you know that?" he said in a deep voice.

Several 'oohs' resonated from the crowd of students, as well as many more giggles at the absurd sight. Scott could've sworn he heard Sam say "See, I told y'all it was worth seein'," but it was instantly drowned out by Bobby's catcall and cry of, "Are you gonna give him the ring now, Kurt?"

Scott turned twelve shades of red and pulled his hand away. "Kurt," he hissed through clenched teeth.

"What? Wheedling hasn't worked, so I was trying to be nice to you instead. Don't you feel flattered?"

"How about, 'no'?"

"Heart of stone. How could you resist this face?" He fluttered again.

"Very easily," Scott replied, and found one of his crutches snagged and carried off. He balanced on the other, wobbling slightly at the sudden lack-of-left-crutch, and yelped indignantly "Kurt! You bring that back here this minute, or I'll singe your tail so bad you won't be able to sit down for a week!"

Kurt just laughed, hooking the crutch in his tail and clambering vertically up the wall to crouch by the light fitting. There, he dangled it just out of Scott's reach and grinned like a furry blue goblin. "You want it? Then fork over the keys."

"No! Nein! Non! Nyet! How many ways can I say it before you get the message?" Scott tried to appear threatening, but the effect was greatly diminished by the fact that he was struggling to maintain his balance while trying to grab for the crutch.

Finally, amidst the cackling and laughing, Jean took pity on him and telekinetically fetched it down for him.

"Aw, you're no fun," Kurt sulked, folding his arms and sticking out his lower lip. He sat cross-legged, torso jutting horizontally into the air as he peered down at the collection of teammates. Scott thought he'd never looked quite so much like a little elf. Put him in a tunic and feathered cap and the effect would be complete.

Jean was firm, handing the crutch back to Scott and speaking to them both in her patented 'lecture mode'. "Now Kurt, you know it's not right to pick on the injured, even if they are being pig-headed." That earned a smattering of titters, which Scott promptly turned to ice with his glare. "And Scott," she went on, "Kurt does have a point. A carpool requires a car, and since you're in no fit state to drive, it only makes sense for him to pilot in your stead. However," she looked up at the manically grinning elf, "that doesn't mean you'd get to do what you want with it, Kurt. The car is still Scott's. Don't forget that, should he consent to letting you behind the wheel, he'd be right beside you the entire time."

Scott looked at Jean and saw the sense to her words. If nothing else, he couldn't be expected to hop all the way to school. He sighed and fumbled in his pocket. The keys glinted as he held them up.

Kurt's joyful shout was only eclipsed by the sound of him 'porting direct to the garage, and the scramble of the others to follow him by more conventional means (i.e. on foot).

"Am I going to regret this?" Scott asked Jean as they half walked, half hobbled to the door.

Jean gave a knowing smile. "You can't control everything, remember? Give Kurt a chance. It was last year when he last drove your car."

"Yeah, well, when something's been burned onto your memory like that, time's irrelevant." Scott shuddered, remembering the sight of Kurt standing repentant in front of an automobile that looked not quite ready for the scrap yard, but pretty damn close. The fact that he'd been holding a windshield wiper in his hands and trying to fix it back on with chewing gum was insult to injury. It was only through 'porting up a tree he'd narrowly escaped having said wiper shoved somewhere unpleasant. As Scott recalled, Kurt had lived the rest of that week in fear of his fuzzy blue hide, ducking into rooms whenever he saw Scott heading his way, and avoiding the carpool like the plague.

The sounds of bickering and squabbling over seats assaulted his ears the moment he and Jean stepped through the glass doors. It was all Scott could do not to groan in anticipation of the whining that was invariably to follow.

"Scott, it's my turn to ride with you today."

"Scott, tell Evan to board to school."

"Scott, as royalty, it is my right to ride in your car."

"Scott, make Roberto ride the frikkin' bike his folks bought him. It's sunny enough for him to make it there before any of us anyway."

"Please, Scott, can I hitch a lift?"

"Why can't I go with you? I'm always on the bus!"

"Get out of my seat! Yes, it does have my name written on it."

Jean shot him a rueful glance, and then tapped down the steps and driveway towards where Duncan's blue Porsche was waiting outside the main gate. Scott watched her go, and then turned towards the garage and his fate therein.

I hate mornings.

To Be Continued...

Review Responses

Ten reviews! Fuckin' A! I may be a sell-out, but I'm a happy sell-out.

Me - I know. I felt all dirty having to do it, but... working really hard on a fic and then having it ignored sucks mutant parrot eggs. As for the dealie with Claremont... when Claremont is hot, he can burn your fingers of at fifty paces. When he's not, you want to tie him to his chair and take away his writing equipment. During his first run on the X-Men comics he instigated the Phoenix enchilada, started the New Mutants series and helped create those characters, and took care of the Morlock Massacre. All three of those still ring in the X-universe. However, he also gave us... the Starjammers, Lilandra, the Shi'ar, and everything that goes with them. He essentially took the X-Men and turned it into a space opera for a while, which works in some respects but not in others. He recently came back to Marvel and yes, he was the one who killed off Psylocke, which pissed off a whole bunch of people. He also resurrected Magneto after a really good bit of emotional turmoil following ol' bucket-head's demise, and so pretty much negated all that luverly characterisation in favour of sending Xavier on a freaky mind-trip for no discernable purpose. So... yeah. Claremont is a mixed bag. I'd still take him over Chuck Austen, though.

Proponant of EVO - Why thank you. I'm pleased you think so.

Pyro Tsunami - When I started this fic there was little to now Ray/Berzerker fic out there. And there still isn't much, but in the interim some stuff has popped up that makes me wonder whether I was watching the same show as everyone else. So I'm glad someone else interpreted Ray's character the same way I did. Thankee kindly.

SperryDee - The Most Beautiful. Makes note I'll see what I can do. I'm up to my ears in essays and new-job-ish-ness at the moment, but I will get around to it after this week finishes and I can breathe again.

Angel of the Fallen Stars - You liked that one? Funny, I thought it was one of the weakest chapters. Huh. Just goes to show, I don't know a bloody thing about knowing my audience. Sweatdrops

Pixie Stix Addict - Shhh! Flails wildly You'll give the game away! Hopefully the whole 'Ray watching over Feral' thing was explained in this chapter (along with the 'second chance' reference).

Madleinx - Argh! Please, tell me where my syntax falls down. I'd prefer to know than get all righteous about not getting reviews and then find out it's because my bad grammar is driving people away in droves. But thank you for the review. Kisses feet And OBAB is... still there. Staring at me. Such beady eyes... Whimpers

LanceisHot - And again I'm proved wrong. I didn't like that chapter, but overall I thought the 'fearless leader' thing was cheesy. Glad to see someone thought different.

Katatonia - That does indeed possess much of the suckage. Magneto and crew aren't slated to appear, but you never know...