A/N: Honestly, I did not expect to have this chapter done so quickly, but here it is anyway. Ok, here is the deal. I know that some people are getting confused/annoyed at having multiple languages and translations so if you want, I can cut down on all of the languages. I never meant to write a fic like this one-shot got a mind of its own. Oh, I do not speak either Italian or Portuguese, so thank God for Babelfish. Just in case someone fell down and bumped their head, no I don't own the X-Men or claim to. I am a poor and the only things that I have are English to French and English to German dictionaries, as you might have noticed. Enjoy and please tell me what you think.

Chapter Three

Professor Xavier wheels himself down the smooth cobblestone path. The warm sun filters through the tree leaves. The summer session has just begun, but the early June sun has yet to acquire the uncomfortable intensity late July inflicts upon upstate New York. The Professor sighs.

"You're so quiet, Charles," says the blue, lion-like geneticist to Xavier's left.

"Just thinking, Hank," the Professor says, smiling patiently. "I just don't understand how what I saw in Kurt's mind could be possible."

"There are a great many things that are not yet conceivable by modern scientific convention. You of all people should be accustomed to that, Professor. I believe when you were my age, mutants were only lore, fairy tales and the stuff of comic books," Hank McCoy says with a playful grin before pressing a button on his wristwatch, activating the image inducer. The gigantic feline Beast fades under a holographic covering, leaving a tall, muscular, brown-haired man standing in his place in the shade.

"That I cannot deny. For a great many years, I believed that I was alone, and possibly insane. Then I met Erik. In our arrogance and bravado, the kind that only youth can curse a man with, we thought that we were the cutting edge of evolution," Xavier says wryly.

"I guess that Logan ruined that one for you as well," Hank chuckles, placing both hands into the pockets of his lab coat.

"That I cannot deny," Xavier agrees. The two mutants make their way up the path. The sound of blasts hitting targets greets both men as they round the corner. Coming into view is a figure dressed in black leather nailing every moving target with precision- timed optic blasts.

"Good Lord, Charles. I know that you told me that he hasn't trained in months, but I must say that Scott has not lost one iota of his ability," Hank replies, not bothering to hide the open admiration in his voice.

"You really haven't been here in a while, have you?" Xavier says, turning to look at his former student. "Put on your glasses, Dr. McCoy. That is a seventeen-year-old girl. Scott is throwing the disks."

Hank fishes in his lab coat pocket for his glasses and puts them on. "Ah, indeed, Charles, the spectacles do make a world of difference. When did Scott get so tall?" Dr. McCoy laughs.

"Long about the time of your second doctorate dissertation," Charles answers, trying to catch randomly projected thoughts before Hank interrupts again.

"Is this a third Summers sibling?"

"No," Charles answers simply.

Hank opens his mouth to ask another question when the figure in black stoops and wheels around in an attack stance, white streaks of hair pulling loose from the bun she has captured it in.

Hank gasps. The girl with the optic blasts and Cyclops' uncanny precision is Rogue.

"Now you see why you are here," Charles states finitely.

"Sorry, Professor, Dr. McCoy," Rogue says softly as Cyclops comes up behind her, placing a hand on the small of her back as she stands.

"It's quite all right, Rogue. My sincerest apologies for impeding your vigorous gladiatorial session," Hank replies warmly.

"English, McCoy," Rogue and Cyclops say, at the exact same time. Identical mischievous grins adorn the faces of both mutants.

"My goodness. I've not heard that since I was a student here," Hank laughs.

"Rogue, if you are through here, I know that Logan is quite anxious to know how you are doing," the Professor offers, his polite tone betraying his ulterior motive.

"Meaning you want me to go and try to calm him down a little before you have to have the repairmen down here to fix the Danger Room again," Rogue says with a rakish grin that does not belong to her.

"Yes, that is exactly what I was hoping that you would acquiesce to," the Professor answers.

"Will do. I'm almost out of optic blasts as it is," Rogue answers, turning to Cyclops. "I had fun training this afternoon. How is it that you got the cool mutation, Scooter?"

Xavier's intense gaze follows every movement that transpires. For the life of him, he does not know what he is waiting for until it happens.

"It was my pleasure, Marie," Scott says in a husky tone. His left arm snakes its way around Rogue's waist and, in one smooth motion, he pulls the younger girl towards him. In a matter of seconds, his mouth hovers inches above hers. Rogue places a leather glove firmly in the middle of the taller man's chest, slowly pushing him away from her body. Scott shakes his head slightly before giving Rogue a confused look. I'm sorry, she mouths, brushing her gloved hand across Scott's cheek before turning towards Professor Xavier and Dr. McCoy, both with their mouths slightly ajar from the surprise.

"Remy LeBeau is an empath, Professor," Rogue says, clasping both hands underneath her chin. "I didn't know for sure until just now." She hangs her head, looks back for a moment in girlish embarrassment at Scott. With a small shake and a clearing of her throat, she turns back to the Professor and Hank. "I'll go find Logan now if you would like." Rogue offers in a low voice, making her way up the path.

"Thank you, Rogue," Xavier says, with a patronly smile.

"Oh, Professor?" Rogue starts, as all three men turn their attention again to the young woman. "Remy doesn't know that he has that ability yet. Could you imagine if he knew that he could control it? There will be no living with him after that. No woman in the mansion will be safe.

All three men laugh. "Too true," Xavier replies, watching his student disappear up the path. He wheels himself around to face Cyclops. Scott already knows what his mentor is about to say. "We need to talk."

--

Kurt Wagner wanders down the hall, muttering to himself in his native German, not looking where he is going. He is ripped out of his thoughts abruptly by a sudden impact, which sends him flailing backwards. He lands hard on the floor, tail-first, with another person sprawled atop of him.

My God in Heaven, Kurt says, looking up at the woman lifting herself off of his chest in the hallway. The lights begin to flicker to life around them as the sun sinks low in the evening sky.

You can say that again, Rogue replies, lifting herself up and helping the blue demon to his feet. I'm sorry to run into you. I was looking for Logan, she says. Her eyes catch sight of the rosary entwined in Nightcrawler's three-fingered hand.

What's wrong, love? You never wander and pray, she says, narrowing her eyes, almost daring him to even think about lying to her, before her features softened. ::Logan's personality always seems to linger longer than any other::, she thinks.

It is silly, darling. There is no need to fret about it, Kurt replies, turning his back to her and bamfing. Rogue's hand flicks out and grabs hold of Kurt's tail as she watches the hallway disintegrate into blue-black smoke.

--

As the world once again becomes solid around her, she clasps onto Kurt's tail tighter as she realizes she is outside, and at a considerable height. With a quick glance, she sees that she is on the roof of the Xavier mansion. To her left, she spies the glass of a skylight. She peers inside, making out a veritable jungle of ferns and potted flowers in the room below. ::Storm's attic::, Rogue thinks, a wry grin crossing her mouth. ::Of course::.

Now I know where you go when we can't find you, Rogue says, brushing away silver and brown strands of hair from her face.

Only in the summer. It would be too cold in the winter, Kurt replies.

Spill it, Nightcrawler, Rouge says, dropping cross-legged on a flat section of rooftop.

You sound like Ororo. Kurt laughs before settling into a crouch, tail resting on his lap. I think that she has another man's heart. Kurt's face turns melancholy. She may even be having an affair for all I know, he says quietly.

Rogue regarded the blue mutant for a moment before bursting into laughter.

You are kidding right? Storm? With who? She is silenced by Kurt's pained expression. Her mind races to the correct conclusion. Oh my God. It's my fault isn't it? You think it's Logan, don't you?

The first thing that he said when he woke up was Storm's name.

In German? Rogue interrupts, expectantly.

Kurt nods miserably.

Rogue exhales the breath she'd been holding. That was me. Kurt, how much do you know about my mutation?

I know that you absorb people, and can kill them that way, Kurt replies.

Rogue nods her head. It's a little different with Logan. He can heal somewhat while I am ...well, while my mutation kicks in. For some reason I can trade information with him. The only reason that we think Logan can speak German at all is because of me.

But why call out for Ororo? It was the very first thing that he said.

That is my fault, too, Rogue answers, quietly playing with the seam on her gloves. After Logan left, Miss Munroe would come and check on me whenever I had a partially vicious nightmare.

„Ah," Kurt says, his eyes alight with a sense of relief. And because Herr Logan still had you in his head...

He wanted my preferred form of comfort. Unfortunately, it just happens to be your girl. Rogue smiles.

I need to find her, Kurt says, standing quickly.

Thank you, Rogue, the blue mutant says, pulling the young girl to her feet and crushing her in a hug.

It's okay. Just do me a favor? Rogue asks quickly as Kurt releases her from his grasp.

Anything, he replies.

Take me with you.

Kurt gives Rogue a puzzled look.

If you bamf without me, Rogue explaines, „ I have to try and get off the roof. It could take me hours to climb down from here—that is, if gravity doesn't take over and I fall.

I hadn't thought about that, Kurt replies, offering a shy, fang-toothed grin. Wrapping his arms around her, they disappear into the night, leaving an indigo smoke cloud in their wake.

--

Ororo Munroe rounds the corner of the hallway and inhales the familiar scent of brimstone. With a ruminating sigh and knowing smile, she makes her way into the kitchen, expecting to find her spade-tailed lover there. Instead, she finds Logan sitting at the bar, with his back to her and a graveyard of empty beer bottles in front of him.

"Ah, well, now I know where Molson goes to die," Ororo laughs, opening the refrigerator door, ignoring the glare and grunt Logan offers in response.

"Have you eaten or are you going for a liquid dinner?" she says.

"I'm trying to catch up," Logan says gruffly, scratching at the scalp under his coal-black hair. "I missed my morning beer, and I've been mostly dead all day. So yeah, I'm doing well with the beer, thank you very much."

"Are you sure? I am making couscous," Storm offers in a singsong voice, waving the box of grain in front of Logan's face.

"All you eat is twigs and bark," Logan replies, turning his nose at the box.

Storm smiles. "I am a vegetarian, but I can be persuaded to broil the slab of venison you brought back to the mansion last week."

Logan offers Ororo his best puppy-dog pout, eliciting a riotous laugh in response.

"Fine, fine, I will make it for you," Ororo says, panting to catch her breath from laughing so hard. "I could never deny a face such as that."

"I always could charm the ladies," Logan says, offering a sly grin before returning his focus to the half-empty bottle on the counter. Ororo turns and digs in the freezer, looking for the white butcher paper that she had wrapped the slab of meat in last week. "Where did you get this from?" she asks.

"Hunted it," Logan answers.

"I thought hunting season was in the fall," the woman replies confused, laying the meat on the counter before unwrapping it.

"Only if you intend on using a gun. Didn't seem sporting, somehow," Logan grins as Storm unwraps the package, revealing a four-inch thick steak with three perfect slits in it, knuckle-width apart.

"I see," Storm replies, somewhat repulsed. She places the frozen steak on a broiler pan and slides it into the oven. Then she returns to the freezer for the frozen treasure she saw only moments before. Within moments, her long fingers wrap around a carton of ice cream. After grabbing chocolate syrup from the refrigerator and a spoon from a drawer, she eases into a bar stool next to Logan, pushing bottles out of her way before placing the ice cream on the countertop and drizzling chocolate over her ice cream. Logan can smell the excitement in the air around Ororo, as palpable as ozone after a summer thunderstorm. He watches as she drags the spoon across the icy terrain of the carton. He is caught in rapt attention as she pulls the spoon up to her luscious brown lips, and watches as her tongue embraces the ice cream, her mouth taking in the bowl of the spoon, her lips closing around the stem, her cheeks drawing in as she sucks away the sweet confection. Lost in his revelry, Logan catches two crystal-blue eyes glaring at him.

"Spill it, Wolverine," Ororo says sharply.

"I'm sorry, were you saying something?" Logan asks, his eyes wide. Never before had he wanted to be a spoon, but then again there was a first time for everything.

"Please keep your mind out of the gutter, Logan," Storm says warningly.

"Hey, a guy can try, can't he?" Logan says, flashing a disarming smirk. Storm rolls her eyes. "There's nothing wrong," Logan says, returning his attention to the bottle in his hand.

"Oh, right. And this case of beer committed suicide right in front of you for no good reason."

It's Monday. A case of beer was destined to die, Logan replies dryly as Kitty Pryde rounds the corner.

I guess that is fair. Storm answers. But you, Logan, are moping. Do not tell me that it is nothing.

I broke the Danger Room again. Logan grins, sarcastically. I'm afraid that the Professor is going to be mad at me.

Do not give me that crap, Storm laughs. What is it with men today?

Uh-oh. Trouble in paradise with the hunk of burning elf love? Logan says, wiggling his eyebrows wickedly and earning a slap on the arm for his trouble.

I am serious. Something is really upsetting Kurt, and he will not stop praying long enough for me to try and figure out what it is, Ororo sighs, resting her chin in her hand and watching two more students—Amara Aquilla and Roberto DaCosta—join Kitty in the hunt for junk food.

Logan gives a rough chuckle and rubs large circles into Storm's back. I think that I may be to blame.

Ororo whips around on him, sending white hair flying in all directions. Feeling the sudden gust of wind from Storm's direction, the kids turn to watch the scene being played out at the bar.

What did you do, Wolverine? an angry Ororo asks, her eyes beginning to cloud over. A slight rumble in the distance accentuates her words, and makes the kids jump.

Calm down, Goddess. I didn't do it on purpose, Logan begins as Ororo's eyes narrow. Kurt was the first person there when I woke up this afternoon. I had a Rogue memory.

Why would that upset Kurt? Ororo asks.

The first thing that I said was... your name. Logan pauses, waiting for the lightning strike. In German.

The three junior mutants wince. They can't understand the conversation, but they can tell by the tone of their voices—and the static prickle in the hairs on the back of their necks—that Miss Munroe is about to pass judgment on whatever Mr. Logan has just told her.

Suddenly, Ororo bursts into gails of laughter. The atmosphere loses its electrical charge. The kids breathe a collective sigh of relief and return to their foraging. Goddess. You are kidding me, right? That is what is bothering Kurt? She stops and looks at him. That is what is bothering you, as well.

Maybe a little. Logan says quietly, again offering Ororo a hangdog expression and looking longingly at the oven. His nose tells him that his dinner is done, and the animal inside him is suddenly very comfortable on his cozy little barstool.

Ororo sighs and gets up to turn off the oven. Her eyes search for an oven mitt, but finds that the kids have confiscated all the oven mitts in the kitchen to help them grip the various toaster goodies they are preparing. Storm turns around and shrugs at Logan, who gets up with a grunt. Ororo hops up on the counter beside the oven as Logan throws open the door and reaches into the broiler. The pan sears his flesh before he drops it on the stovetop with a clatter.

Storm reaches in the cabinet behind her, producing a plate and offering it to Logan. With the heel of her boot, Ororo hooks the drawer handle and pulls it out before reaching down and producing a fork and a knife.

Logan sniffs in mock annoyance. Show off.

"Yoga." Ororo replies. It bothers you that the Rogue in you wanted comfort from me, does it not?

She used to want me. Logan says, staring absently at his hand as it heals. You left, Logan.

Christ, I was only gone a month. It's not like I never talked to her while I was gone.

A month is a very long time for a seventeen-year-old girl with horrific nightmares that do not belong to her. Ororo says softly.

My nightmares faded in a week. She told me so. Logan retorts, spearing the meat with a fork and dropping it on his plate.

Ororo rolls her eyes. Yes, your nightmares faded in a week. She still gets Magneto's a month and a half later. She will get yours again. And now, goddess knows what Remy has been through living on the streets.

Logan sniffs. That swamp rat is trouble. Ororo rolls her eyes at the entire male species.

The kids walk towards the hallway, having finished their junk food feast. Kitty walks over to the pair of older mutants.

"Um, Miss Munroe, can I have some of your ice cream in the freezer?"

Sure. Take the ice cream on the counter. Ororo starts, suddenly noticing the blank stare on Kitty's face.

"Oh, I am sorry, Kitten. Yes, take the ice cream on the counter."

"Thanks, Miss Munroe." Kitty says, grabbing the container on the counter.

Find her, Kurt. Knowing Miss Munroe, she is probably worried about you. Rogue says, rubbing wide circles into Nightcrawler's back. It surprises her slightly that one moment she was perched on the roof like some oversized bird and now she is in the same hallway she de-materialized from twenty minutes before. ::Everybody has a better mutation than I do,:: she thinks with a pout.

You are probably right. Do you need the homework assignment? Kurt asks, changing the subject in case anyone else knows languages that he is not aware of.

Not yet, but I will get it from Jubilee. Rogue answers with a grin. Go find her.

I'm going. Thank you, Rogue, Kurt replies before disappearing in a haze of sulphuric smoke.

Hello, guys, Rogue replies finally feeling like her old self as she passes her three classmates with a wave and turns a corner.

"Doesn't anyone speak English in this damn school?" Kitty asks, rolling her eyes.

"Non se posso aiutarlo." Not if I can help it, Amara answers with a mischievous grin.

"Segundo I isso." I second that, Roberto replies, taking Amara's hand in his own.

"I'm going to go catch the second half of the Cubs game," Kitty replies exasperatedly.

"I think they were losing, the last time I saw." Bobby Drake says, coming up the hall towards them. Kitty feels her heart flutter a little. Bobby Drake, a devoted Red Sox fan, knew not only that the Cubs were playing but also had at least seen enough of the game to know that they were loosing. Admittedly, it would be much better if they were at least tied, if not winning, but surely he had been thinking about her. She is the only Cubs fan in the entire mansion.

"Has anyone seen Rogue?" Bobby asks.

"Story of my life... Goddamn goat..." Kitty fumes as she opens the door to her dorm room.