A/N: Okay, because if the writers guilt over the very short Chapter 7, I made Chapter 8 nice and long for your reading pleasure. As always, the X-Man and other members of the Marvel universe do not beling to me and really, if I had just a piece of the box on the movies, I would not be living in a dinky apartment.
Please review and I will hold a special place in my heart for you.
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Peter Rasputin stops his stroll up the hall and looks around. The hall is empty; this makes him nervous. In the back in his mind, Peter has always been slightly skittish. Being a mutant in Russia will do that to a person. Since the attack on the mansion, he's been on higher alert. There is still something about that day that he simply cannot shake.
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Slowly Peter makes his way down the hall with extreme caution, trying to see as far ahead as he can.
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Peter stands still, holding his chest as his heart beats wildly. The sound has stopped abruptly. That can only mean one thing--whatever is making the sound knows that he is there. There is an enemy that is sizing him up as a target--an enemy he has yet to see.
"What are you doing?"
Peter takes a step and cranes his neck up to see Remy LeBeau, sitting on the top rail of the banister, perched in the perfect spot to see everything, swinging his leg as if he is bored by the view.
"I was looking for you," Colossus answers, trying in vain to slow his breathing. The proud Russian is trying to not make it painfully evident that the Cajun has nearly scared the armor out of him.
"Well then, homme, it's a good thing I was just hanging around here."
"What are you doing up there?" Peter asks.
"Well, I don't want to be here if that's what you mean," Remy replies.
"Okay, where do you want to be?"
"The Danger Room."
"You've been here a day. How do you know about the Danger Room?" Peter asks, taken aback. Of all the answers to his question that would be the Cajun's response, that was not even on Peter's not-probable list.
"I was dere last night with Rogue. Now Madame Monroe tells me I can't go dere without a teacher to supervise. Hey, you can't get in there, can you?"
"Nope," Peter answers, shaking his head. "Pass code protected."
"How do you get one of those pass codes, then?"
Peter shrugs. "You have to be a teacher, or a member of the X-Men."
"Oui, but Rouge ain't a member of the team. Dere has to be another way," Remy says, self-assured.
"True," Peter replies, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, head still tilted back. "And if your mutation happens to be extracting information from people by killing them, then you too can have the pass code."
Remy rests his chin on his leather-clad knee in concentration.
"I'm on my way to the gym downstairs. You can come if you want. No teachers needed." Peter offers.
"Well, mon ami, I think Remy take you up on dat offer."
Exiting the library, Bobby is deep in his own thoughts, remembering an incredible dream from five nights ago. Although his memory of the dream is hazy in the harsh morning light, there are portions that are still incredibly vivid--a tangle of arms and legs and lips and tongues and kisses. One thing has seared itself into the forefront of his consciousness: He remembers a nip of teeth against his neck; a puff of air skittering across his flesh... A moan, taking the form of his name. The voice belongs to Kitty Pryde.
Peter watches from below as Remy tucks his feet up underneath his body, balancing on the thin wrought-iron banister. The lanky man allows himself to fall forward, head first, only to twist his body to land both gracefully and soundlessly on the plush carpet, right in front of the lost-in-thought Bobby Drake.
"Goddamn it! Where the hell did you come from?" Bobby asks. Of all the people Bobby would want to fall out of the sky practically into his arms, Remy LeBeau is not among them.
"The railing above," Remy answers, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. "You should watch where you going, Snowy. Might've gotten hurt," the Cajun adds, winking a crimson-on-black eye at Bobby. Remy straightens his ever-present duster and, turning on his heels, walking away down the hallway. Peter just looks at Bobby and shrugs before following Remy down the hallway towards the elevator.
"Show-off." Bobby mutters under his breath as he walks towards the common area. The frost gathering on the walls as he passes indicates his foul mood.
~*~
"Scott!" Rogue screams, quickly clamping her eyes shut. She drops to her knees, her arms covering her head. Hank McCoy roars in surprise.
~*~
"Kurt," begins the Professor, "I caught some stray thoughts from you when I was searching for you after the assassination incident. With your permission, I'd like to scan your mind again. Together, we may be able to discover who your real mother is."
"Jawohl, Herr Professor," Kurt responds. "By all means." He sits in a chair opposite Xavier and leans forward, so that Xavier can hold his hands to Kurt's temples. Kurt flinches for a moment as the Professor enters his mind. As he watches, Logan sniffs the air, catching a scent of fear and tension from both Kurt and the Professor.
"Open your mind to me completely," Xavier says softly to Kurt. "We must go deep into your memories… beyond the first real memory you have… to when you were an infant." The mind-locked men grimace as the professor probes deeper into Kurt's subconscious. Beads of sweat form on Xavier's bald head. Tears pour across the ridges of Kurt's scarred cheeks; his eyes roll back in his head.
In Kurt's mind, Xavier feels himself being carried tight against a woman's chest, bouncing with each running stride. Suddenly, he feels the sensation of his carrier tripping, and losing hold of the baby in her hands. He feels the sensation of freefall, and, through Kurt's eyes, sees himself falling away from his mother--a woman with scaled skin the color of the night sky above her, with eyes as shimmering yellow as Kurt's. Xavier's sight turns from the woman on the ledge to the river below. Xavier watches the river rise to meet him, and sees the scene disappear in a plume of smoke and a resounding bamf…
With a gasp of air, Kurt shakes back to reality, and the Professor leans back in his chair.
"I should have guessed," the Professor gasps, slumping down in his wheelchair in exhaustion. Logan rises out of his chair.
"I'm fine, Logan," Xavier says, turning to Kurt, who is wiping his face clean with a handkerchief pulled from his pants pocket.
"Kurt," says the Professor, "Your mother is…"
"Mystique," Kurt answers, dropping his head into his three-fingered hands.
"Mystique?" Logan asks incredulously. "That changeling bitch is his mother?"
Kurt looks at Logan and offers a fang-toothed grin. "It certainly explains my appearance, nicht wahr?"
"But how is that possible?" Logan stammers. "And how the hell does this relate to Rogue?"
"Logan, please, calm down," Xavier chides. "My theory is that Mystique's shape-changing ability dampens the natural aging process in her body. She may appear to be as old as Kurt, but she could easily be as old as me. Perhaps even as old as you."
"And Rogue?" Logan asks.
"Rogue and I have talked about her past," Xavier says. "She told me that she used to have nightmares that her mother would turn into a monster with scaly blue skin. As it turns out, Rogue saw her mother transform into her true form one night when she was a very small child. It traumatized her."
"So Rogue is the elf's sister?" Logan asks.
"Step-sister," Xavier corrects. "I researched her identity when you both arrived. She was adopted as an infant. Unfortunately, I could find no records of her true parents."
"Unglaublich," Kurt says with a sigh. "God works in mysterious ways. Not only do I now know who my mother is, but I discover I have a new sister as well. Fantastich! I must share this with her!"
"Hang on there, Elf," Logan growls. "Let's not rush…"
The room suddenly rocks as if it were sitting astride the San Andreas Fault.
"What the hell was that?" Logan asks, claws immediately drawn.
"It was an explosion, ja?" asks Kurt.
"Thanks for keeping up, elf," Logan says sarcastically.
Xavier pinches the bridge of his nose in exhausted frustration. He scans the occupants of the room below, but gets very little information. "Apparently the lab is in ruin. It would appear that an optic blast went awry. I'm just not certain whose blast hit whom."
Logan's face does nothing to hide his fury. Before he can even open his mouth, Kurt yells first. "You mean Rogue, my sister, is down there in trouble again? Some safe haven for mutants." A stream of German curses disappears with a bamf of air and blue-black smoke.
"Well, at least he has that overprotective big brother thing going," Logan says, shaking his head. With his hand, claws still extended, he props open the Professor's heavy door.
"So it would seem," Xavier answers, wheeling his way towards the elevator.
~*~
Kitty Pryde walks into the common area and sees Bobby Drake reading in a corner chair. ::It's now or never,:: she tells herself walking over towards the boy.
"Hey, Bobby," Kitty says, standing in front of his chair. Bobby doesn't even flinch at his name being called. Kitty leans down closer to his ear.
"Bobby," she says, not too loudly, as to not startle him.
Bobby jumps and turns directly to stare into Kitty's eyes.
"What?" Bobby asks, his voice taking an unfamiliar edge, accentuated by a puff of air.
Kitty leans back, slightly taken aback. "I... ah... hi," she stammers, completely lost.
"Kitty, I just saw you in class two hours ago. Hi to you too," Bobby replies, hoping sarcasm will mask his dream-induced panting from having his name on Kitty's lips so close to his skin.
"Ah, yeah, you did, huh?" Kitty says, growing red. "Look, I just wanted to know if you could tutor me in astronomy. It's just that you are always so good at math and numbers. I am completely hopeless about them. You are always the one that is the top of the class. You are always here. John had said that he would help me with this class over the summer, but you know how reliable and, well, dangerous he turned out to be," Kitty babbles on, high on fear-induced adrenalin. "You're just always there and very comfortable."
::So,:: Bobby thinks to himself, ::I'm safe. Not someone to date, but someone to fix everything.:: Bobby gets up out of his chair, angry. "Is that right? Ask Bobby and he'll fix everything. Well, I'm sick to death of being the constant one around here," he announces loudly, his Boston accent growing thick with his anger. The entire room turns their attention to the two teens. "I can be dangerous. I am dangerous. Ever seen someone frozen to death?" he bellows.
Kitty shakes her head.
"Well, it ain't pretty, sweetheart. It's hella painful. Look, you want some lackey to attempt to get you to wrap that pretty little mind around astronomy, then I suggest that you talk to the Professor or Dr. McCoy. Hell, you have a better shot at Logan tutoring you at this point than me," Bobby finishes, grabbing his bag and exiting the room through the door. Kitty prefers to use the wall as her escape route, so that as few people as possible can see the tears running down her face.
Teresa Roarke stands in the common room, mouth agape at the scene that has just unfolded before her eyes, and instantly her heart goes out to her roommate. She would follow her if it hadn't been for that whole walking-through-the-wall thing.
The room then rumbles, and the newly re-paned glass windows rattle in their frames.
"Bloody hell! What was that?" she asks curiously.
"In this house, it could be darn near anything," Jamie Madrox, standing at Theresa's right, answers, with a shrug.
"Ah, to be young and mutant," Jones says dryly to Thrersa's left. Teresa can't help but to agree.
~*~
The elevator door slides open, and an uncharacteristic chill skitters down Remy's spine. If he didn't know any better, he would believe a lion was roaming the halls.
"What was that?" Remy asks.
"Doctor McCoy," Peter answers, shifting his attention down the hallway.
Remy watches as Peter's exterior begins to look like metal puzzle pieces quickly fitted together.
"It came from dis way." Remy says, reaching into his pocket for a deck of playing cards as he rushes down the hallway. The cards start glowing an explosively neon magenta as he follows the surprisingly agile Russian down to the sub-basement. As the two mutants run through the door of the lab, Remy is stunned by the sight before him.
The normally meticulously organized laboratory of Dr. Henry McCoy lies in ruin. Scattered haphazardly across the room is twisted metal, shattered glass and rubble. In the center of the chaos sits Rogue, looking incredibly small.
Peter leans over the girl. "Rogue? Can you move? You have to get out of here," he says, reaching down and wrapping his massive fingers around her forearm.
"Don't touch me!" she screams, eyes wild. "Please. Don't touch me. Leave me alone. No more metal..."
"You can't sit here," Peter says concerned.
Remy grabs Colossus' arm. "I've got her, homme. You help the doctor." The other boy nods and crosses the lab.
Gambit crouches down and stokes Rogue's hair. "Come on, chere. You and me, we gotta go."
She shakes her head. "Just go. I can't… just go."
"I can't do that." Remy replies resolutely.
"Trust me, swamp rat. Cut your losses. Just leave me alone."
Gambit shakes his head. He reaches into the pocket of his trenchcoat pulling out a pair of leather gloves.
"Marie," Remy says, sliding the gloves on his hands. The girl looks up at him, tears streaming down from under a too-big visor. "I'm taking you out of here with me. Trust Remy?"
Rogue nods slowly. Remy reaches down and slides his right arm under her thigh; his left arm braces her back. Remy feels her heart thud under his leather clad fingers. He allows himself a small smile as her heart begins to beat faster under his touch. Marie wraps her arms around Remy's neck and feels the floor drop farther and farther away from her body as he pulls himself to full height.
"Let Remy get you out of here, chere," the Cajun says soothingly, easily navigating through the rubble and tucking a pair of small red glasses into his pocket.
"Yes, please," comes the small reply from the small form snuggled into Remy's chest.
~*~
"Is he all right, doctor?" Peter asks in his thick Russian accent.
Hank looks up at the massive armored man and shakes his head helplessly. "I don't know, Peter. I really don't."
"Mr. Summers is alive, though, right?" Peter asks, furrowing his chromed brow.
Hank arched his own blue-furred, leonine brow at Peter. "Yeah, we'll go with that."
Colossus releases a pained sigh. "Well, Doctor, we should get him out. He might need a Band-Aid."
"To say the least," Hank agreed, moving another bit of twisted metal out of the way to finally reveal Scott Summers encased in a folded, half-melted steel cabinet.
"What did this?" Peter asks in awe.
"Rogue's optic blast," Hank answers grabbing one side of the cabinet while Peter grasps the other. "It hit Scott square in the chest."
The metal creaks slightly, and Scott begins to stir.
"Don't move, Mr. Summers," Colossus says, startled that any movement on Cyclops' part was possible.
"I'm fine, Peter. It's just a little tight in here," Scott jokes.
"Well, lets get you out," Hank says. The hulking blue Beast and the metallic Colossus grasp the cabinet on each side, and, with one firm tug, Hank releases Cyclops from the metal trappings.
"Agh!" Scott cries out.
"Scott, what is it?" Hank says, instantly worried.
Scott picks up his arm, showing four vicious long red scratches, already seeping blood.
"Don't you ever cut those nails of yours, McCoy?"
"Mea culpa, Scott. Let's get you out of here and we can clean you up."
"Yes, please," Scott replies, taking the offered hands of both men and pulling himself from the twisted metal. As he stands, he watches Remy carry Rogue out of the room in his arms.
~*~
"Where are you taking me?" Rogue asks into the Cajun's chest.
"I don't quite know yet," Remy confesses.
"Hang a right and bang on the third panel on the left."
Remy does as he is told. The large panel slides open to reveal a tunnel.
"Handy," Remy concedes, stepping into the corridor and hitting the close button with his elbow while continuing his trek, Rogue still in his arms.
"You know, you can put me down." Rogue says, looking at the man who had his hand suspiciously close to her butt.
"Ah, come on, chere, you ruinin' Remy's fun." He flashes her his best grin before dropping the girl lightly on her feet. In the silence that follows as the two teens stood and just stared at each other, Remy reaches into his pocket. "Here, chere, these might fit you better." He says producing the pair of square ruby quarts lenses.
"Where did you get these?" Rogue questions.
"They were in the lab. I supposed that they were yours."
"Thank you." Rogue replies taking the glasses and closing her eyes tight as she removes the ill-fitting set before replacing them with the new lighter pair. She never sees Remy flinch slightly at the sight of the still angry purple welt that surrounds her eye.
"You look good, chere." Remy smiles.
"Thanks." She replies.
"Now, what?" Remy inquires.
"Come this way, sugah."
"Where we going, chere?"
Rogue smiles. "We're going to the fountain. Everyone's in class, so we'll be left alone."
"What we gonna do there?" Remy asks wiggling his eyebrows playfully.
She sighs. "I don't know, but I am sure it ain't what's going on in your dirty little mind," she says with a grin, tapping the side of her head with a long gloved finger.
"Can't blame a guy for trying. Lead on, Marie." Remy smiles, following the still shaky girl through the iron grate and into the tree-filtered sunshine.
~*~
"Mein Gott im Himmel," Kurt whispers, taking in the sight of the rubble strewn about Hank's facility as the blue-black smoke clears. "Where is Rogue? What did you do to her?" Kurt asks, grabbing Scott's shirt and pulling the man face to face with himself.
"What have I done to her?" Scott asks, dumbfounded.
Colossus grabs Kurt's arm and pulls him off of Scott as Hank speaks. "Kurt, you have it all wrong. Scott got hit, not the other way around," Hank explains, uncharacteristically leaving the big words out of the conversation.
"Rogue did this?" Kurt asks, confused.
"I'm afraid so," Hank answers as the Professor comes though the door, followed by Logan. They don't get very far.
"A little help, please," Charles says in a grandfatherly voice that instantly eases the residual tensions in the room.
Once enough debris is cleared, everyone sits around as Hank grabs gauze and tape from a still-intact cabinet and begins to clean the gashes in Scott's arm.
"So what happened around here, Dr. Furry?" Logan asks, placing an unlit cigar between his teeth.
"One of Rogue's optic blasts hit Scott." Hank replies diplomatically.
"How in the hell are you not Swiss cheese?" Logan asks Scott.
Hank, Scott, and Charles all exchange looks of silent conversations until Scott sighs in defeat. "The Summers effect," he replies.
"The Summers effect?" Kurt and Peter question, at the same time, in conflicting accents.
"There is a condition being investigated by Dr. McCoy on an oddity being displayed among mutant siblings," Scott answers.
"Why is it named after you?" Logan asks skeptically.
"Jean knew the story of my brother and decided to study the phenomena among other families," Scott says.
"The hypothetical theory," says Dr. McCoy, "states that among siblings there is a protection provided by the mutant gene amongst individuals sharing simular genetic make-ups."
Logan looks around to the blank faces of his teammates. "Am I the only one who understood that?"
"Yes," Peter answers.
Hank shrugs. "I talk fast."
"I just don't understand," Kurt says, slumping in defeat.
"Look, Elf. If you and Marie were related by blood instead of by law, you may not be able to teleport with her, or she wouldn't be able to drain you."
"You and Rogue are related?" Scott asks, startled at this little tidbit of information. "How?"
"Yeah, you missed the story of how the elf ended up hoping around Marie's family tree, Scooter." Logan chuckles, under intense glares from both Kurt and Xavier.
"She is my sister." Kurt answers.
"You can certainly see the family resemblance, huh, One-Eye?" Logan jokes, enjoying the confused expression on Scott's face.
"Yeah. Uncanny," Scott replies dripping in sarcasm.
"So you can't hurt Marie," Kurt sums up, changing the subject.
"It would appear so," Scott answers.
"So if this Summers Effect is true, then why can I see Mystique change?"
"I believe I can answer that," Charles starts. "First of all, it must be a sibling, or someone who shares genetic similarities from both parents."
"Or in Rogue's case, absorbed enough of Scott to get the same type of immunity as a blood relative," Hank adds.
"Wait, back the truck up," Scott says, waving his arms in a fed-up gesture. "Kurt is Rogue's brother? How is he related to Mystique?"
"Scott, she is his mother," Charles explains patiently. "She also adopted Rogue at a very young age and sent her to live with a distant cousin. That is how Magneto knew about both her and her mutation to use her during the Liberty Island attack."
Peter lets out a low whistle of disbelief.
"Sick bastard," Logan growls. Hank nods in agreement.
Scott turns to Kurt. "Sweet Jesus. At this rate, the devil himself would wind up being your father." Logan chuckles roughly in the background.
"The Lord works in mysterious ways," Kurt concedes.
"So where do we go from here?" Logan asks.
"What do you mean, Herr Logan?"
"Well, we know that Rogue and Blue Boy are brother and sister, and Marie and Scotty-boy can't hurt each other with the flashes of light in their eyes. So, now what?"
"Now I suppose we tell Rogue that Kurt is her brother," Hank says, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose.
"Are you sure that is wise, Dr. McCoy?" Peter asks.
"Why wouldn't it be?" Scott asks.
"It just seems like a lot to take in right now," Peter says. "A man she just met less than a month ago is her long lost brother neither of you knew she had, and a woman who tried to kill her is her mother. This on top of the fact that she nearly killed two friends yesterday, and her professor this morning."
"Y'know, the tin man's got a point," Logan says.
"Ja, having a demon for a sibling could be disturbing," Kurt concedes miserably.
"I don't think that's what Peter was saying," Scott offers.
"I think the problem is much more about her mother than her brother, Kurt." Charles replies.
"Where is she?" Logan asks.
"Who?" Hank inquires.
"Rogue!" Logan answers exhasperatly.
"She's with Remy," Scott answers.
"So she's safe," Kurt sighs.
"Define safe," Logan growls, rubbing his knuckles as Scott nods his head.
"Can we please get back to the subject?" Charles asks.
"Yes, I believe we got a little off track," Hank concurs.
"Wait, did we all just agree on something?" Logan asks incredulously. "That Rogue doesn't need to know about her family now?"
Hank looks around to the other occupants in the rubble littered room. "It would appear so."
"I think that we just did, ja." Kurt answers.
"All right," Charles says, making a small defeated gesture. "We will wait until Rogue is ready to hear the news."
There is a nodded consent among the men in the room as they start to file out of what's left of Hank's lab.
"Sorry about your lab," Scott says, patting Hank's shoulder comfortingly.
"Well, at least I know what I'll be doing all night."
~*~
"I am a little confused," Ororo starts, wrinkling her noble brow and looking up into her lover's face while leaning against his chest. They were sitting on the balcony of her attic loft overlooking the sprawling grounds.
"Let's start at the beginning," Kurt smiles. "It is a lot to digest."
"So what you are telling me is that you found out that you have a family today." Ororo says, leaning her head back against Kurt's bare blue chest.
"Ja," comes the German's answer.
"And your family consists of Mystique as your mother... and apparently she also adopted Rogue at some point, making Marie your sister."
"It would appear so, ja."
"And at which point did Rogue try and kill Scott?"
Kurt looks over his lover's shoulder, critically.
"Accidentally." Ororo added with a grin.
"That happened at the same time," Kurt says with a sigh.
"So we could say that both you and Scott had a rough day."
"To say the least," Kurt laughs, running his fingers thorough snow white tresses. Quietly he takes pleasure watching spun platinum, glistening in the moonlight, spilling and skittering across the ink skin of Kurt's bare chest.
"So as a consequence, you, Logan, Scott, and Professor Xavier decided to keep this new found information to yourselves," Ororo starts, incredulously. "And away from Rogue."
"It was Peter's idea," Kurt replies in their defense.
"Peter's?" Ororo asks, slightly taken aback. "So one student is deciding what will be told to another student about her life?"
"Ja. It really makes sense though. She is still having a rough time with her powers without a demon for a brother. The Professor agreed with us. Peter didn't actually have a say, just the suggestion."
"Giver her a little credit, Kurt. Besides, I have a demon for a lover," Ororo smiles, staring into the night over the mansion's expansive grounds.
"And thank Gott for that." Kurt answers, resting his chin atop her head while a three-fingered hand toys with the flesh of her neck as she sighs her pleasure to the night goddess' graces.
~*~
Underneath the lovers' balcony loft, Scott is making his way toward the weather witch's greenhouse carrying a six pack of Molson. He smiles a little at the sight of a feral man working over a small flat of dirt as he open the door.
"Want one, Logan?" Scott offers the man who takes a seat on the work table next to the same flat he had jsut been staring at.
"How did you find me, bub?" Logan growls, taking the offered icy bottle.
"Oh, come off it, Logan," Scott chides, taking his own seat on the table across from Logan. "You can't honestly believe you're the only one who hides out in Ororo's greenhouse."
"One could hope." Logan grumbles.
"What's your problem?" Scott asks, taking a long swig.
"There's something going on around here, Scooter. I can feel it in my adamantium." Logan says.
"Will wonders never cease. Did the big bad Wolverine just make a joke?" Scott laughs.
"Well," Logan grins. "If you can find beer in Lemonade Lucy's birthplace, then I can tell a joke or two."
"You had beer yesterday." Scott replies.
"Yes, but I also happen to know that beer is no more. There is no more alcohol left in the house."
Scott laughs. "You've been looking in the wrong places. Charles has brandy and cognac in his office. Hank makes microbrews in his lab. Jean has... had a wine cooler in the teacher's lounge. Hell, if you get really desperate, Peter's sister sends him vodka straight from his hometown, or hit up Siryn for the Irish whiskey that I know she sneaks from Sean."
"Well, shit. Now you tell me. I was drinking Dr. Pepper with the snowball when the school was invaded. Trust me, I could have used a drink."
"I can imagine." Scott laughs. "I was takin' a high- heeled boot to the skull at about that time."
Logan chuckles. "Yeah, she was one tough bitch."
"We're not getting along, are we?" Scott asks critically after a moment, through a beer-induced haze.
"Nah. You're still a dick, One-Eye."
"Good. I wouldn't want anything to get too screwed up around here," Scott declares as Logan laughs, staring up though the glass panes into the night sky.
~*~
"I need to get away," Rogue sighs, tossing a penny into the fountain, watching the water ripple.
"We could run away," Remy offers offhandedly.
"We could. We could just leave," Rogue says, excitement welling up in her voice.
"Then we'll go, neh?" Remy says, getting to his feet and offering a hand down to the sitting girl.
"Be serious. We can't leave," Rogue replies, all excitement gone from her tone, replaced with resigned regret.
"You don't want to be cooped up here all summer any more than I do. Just run away with me tonight," Remy says, the resolution in his voice accentuated slightly by pleading hope.
"We can't leave, Remy."
"Yes, we can."
"Where will we go?"
"Anywhere you want to, chere."
"How will we get there?"
"I saw a motorcycle. They won't miss it."
Rogue chuckles gruffly. "Seems to be a theme."
"What?"
"Long story."
"You can tell it to me on the road."
"I can't."
"Which part?" Remy asks with a languid smile.
"The running."
"Why?"
"Scott. Logan. The Professor. Pick one. It would be wrong to make them worry like that."
"I don't care if it's wrong. Come with me, chere. I can't stay here while a summer sun sets on the road. And Remy can't leave with out you." He says.
Rogue looks at Remy's offered hand in its calf-skinned covering. She places her palm in it, surprised a little by the fact that it feels just like both Scott's and Logan's-- strong, sure, comforting.
"Let's go, sugah," Rogue says, allowing the Cajun to pull her close to his body before they head off towards the garage.
~*~
"Mind if I sit down?"
Kitty looks up from where her chin rested atop her knees and into Bobby's blue eyes. "Sure, I guess there's enough room," she replies, gesturing to the empty sofa beside her.
"What are you watching?" Bobby asks, not even looking at the TV screen as he sits down next to the sad-eyed girl.
"Watchin' the Cubs lose," she replies dryly.
"I know that feeling," Bobby offers, falling into a deafening silence. Bobby doesn't know what to say, and apparently Kitty won't make it easy on him.
"I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier." Bobby says, drawing his knees up on the sofa, imitating Kitty's posture. He does not look as comfortable as the more limber girl.
"It's fine."
"No, it's not," Bobby replies, shaking his head. "I was feeing sorry for myself and it was no excuse."
"It's fine, really. I'll just get Professor X or Dr. McCoy to tutor me."
"It's probably safer that way," Bobby sighs, mostly to himself.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Kitty snaps. "I don't think for a minute that you would freeze me to death if I got an answer wrong."
"It's not like that," Bobby starts, growing red-faced.
"So what is it like, Bobby?" Kitty retorts quickly, feeling the anger well up deep from her belly.
"I don't know that I could sit in that stuffy library for an hour every night the entire summer and not touch you."
Kitty turns to look at Bobby, fury evident on her delicate features. "Don't," she grinds out dangerously.
Bobby is taken aback. He's never seen her angry before.
"Don't you dare play with me like this is some game," Kitty says, anger and despair mixing in her voice. "Not you. I can't take it. Not from you."
Bobby gapes openly at the small Midwestern girl. "What?" he stammers quietly. "What can't you take from me?"
Kitty slumps deeper into her knees. "I couldn't take the teasing from you, too."
"Why would anyone tease you about me?" Bobby asks, heart stomping a cadence behind his ribs.
"Don't play stupid with me, Drake. It doesn't suit you."
"As much as I hate to admit this, Pryde, I'm not playing."
"Why don't you tell me why you won't tutor me?" Kitty asks, trying in vain to squelch any hope that dares to peek around her heart.
Bobby rests his chin on his knees. He closes his eyes as he speaks. "I have had a crush on your for a while now. I didn't want to hurt Marie, but... I haven't been touched in so long, that..."
A feather-soft hand brushing across his cheekbone towards his neck stills Bobby's voice. He continues slowly, every word more difficult than the last. "I had a dream, last night. It was about you. I was thinking about it, about you when you scared me his afternoon. I'm sorry, Kitty."
Kitty's only response is a light kiss to his lips. Her lips turn rosy pink from the cold. Slowly he reaches out to touch her, to run his fingers through her hair and cup the top of her neck, and pulls her closer, dropping the barrier of his knees.
She shivers at the chill of his fingers against the nape of her warm neck. She gasps slightly at the sensation, opening her mouth slightly. Bobby seizes this chance and allows his tongue to explore the inside of her mouth. Now it was his turn to be surprised. A tingling sensation dances across his nerve endings. It now feels like he is kissing muggy dense air. He cracks his eyes and smiles slightly as he pulls away reluctantly. Kitty was unconsciously phasing through him.
"It's nice to know I'm not the only one who still has trouble with my mutation." Bobby smiles, pulling Kitty into his arms to lean her against his chest as he rests his chin atop her head.
Kitty grins, sleepily tilting her head up to look at the boy. "Only when you're around, Drake," she yawns.
"Good to know, Pryde," he answers, placing a soft kiss into her hair as they both drift off to sleep there in the den. The Cubs game coming to an end was their only lullaby--they still lost.
~*~
The smooth vaulted ceilings of his dorm room hold no surprises. Many nights have been spent meticulously inspecting every inch of the plaster. With a grunt that would do Logan proud, Piotr Nikolovich Rasputin curses himself once again.
There is something about that night he simply cannot shake. Even though he can never admit it, he cannot get to sleep most nights. Tonight holds no exception. He lays in bed, watching the ceiling, allowing himself to get lost in his own mind. He tries to tempt an elusive sleep another way, counting sheep in both English and Russian, reading, writing his sister--anything that might work. So far, it hasn't.
There is one cure. He slowly rolls his massive frame out of bed, surprisingly light on his feet, and creeps his way down the hall. It's not far--just three more doors and he assures himself hours of peaceful slumber. He holds his breath in tense anticipation. This is silly, and he knows it. There is nothing that he can do. It is either this, or not sleep.
Ever so quietly, he turns the knob of the mahogany door that his nocturnal wandering has brought him to. Inch by inch, the door reveals what he has come to see. His vision drinks in the sight of a slumbering girl, safe and sound, peacefully curled under a crisp cotton sheet. The bold Irish flag hanging over the head of her bed makes him smile. He had helped her hang it only three days before the mansion was invaded. Proudly in the center of the flag was a bullet hole. The flag had been moved from the other side of the room. The bullet hole was from one that bounced off his chest while he was armoring up that night. She said that somehow it fit, and he couldn't help but agree. Using just as much care, he closes the door without a sound. With a large yawn, he makes his way back down the corridor. ::After all,:: he tells himself tonight, just as every night before, ::she'll yell if she needs me.::
