Author's note: This chapter and the next are actually two halves of an unconscionably lengthy whole. I just couldn't bring myself to post them as one giant chapter, because it was just oh-so-wrong to expect y'all to sit for that amount of time. You can read them together, or come back later for part two, whichever you like.

Also, this chapter's PG-13, because there's a smidgen of language in the second part. Expect the rating to switch to an R soon, though. I don't like stepping on toes.

Anyway – Letanica was kind enough to beta, bless her heart, despite having about six million other things on her plate. If there's a mistake, trust me – she told me, and I forgot to change it. Katt8 was the one who finally said, "Um….can't you just split the chapter?" But she said it really nicely. So I did. A frillion thanks to both of them.

ETA: Roguechere pointed out, and rightly so, that if I was going for the title of Internet's Slowest Updater, it would help if I posted a summary before getting to the new stuff. So, here's the story thus far: Dane tried to kidnap a slightly depressed and unstable Rogue. Remy rescued her, and then came to stay at the mansion in one of the biggest plot contrivances since the Dawson's Creek finale. Logan was in mean and overprotective mode, but he and Rogue are working it out. Kind of. Kurt was cranky, he and Kitty fought about Kurt's behavior, Amanda helped restore the peace between the two, Remy and Rogue quarreled a lot, and there was…um…frisky Romy behavior up on the roof. What did you expect? It's fanfiction, people.

On with the show….

"You may take off your seatbelts," Storm called from the front of the Blackbird. "Wolverine, will you take the helm?"

"Sure." He flipped the switch that transferred primary control to his seat, settled in. Let Storm run the briefing, he thought. It was her mission, her family. This time, he was just backup, though he had pushed for Rogue to be included on the mission. It was her first time out since the incident with Dane, and he was interested to see how her increased training reflected in the field. The fact that it kept her away from Gambit for at least a day was just gravy.

Storm's voice cut into his thoughts. Outwardly, she was calm as ever, but he could scent the nerves on her. For her, he knew, there was more at stake than just the mission objectives.

"Several weeks ago, Evan contacted me. An anti-mutant group that he and the Morlocks have encountered previously has become more aggressive in their tactics."

"Who are they?" asked Scott. "Have we heard of them before?"

"Not here in Bayville." She glanced needlessly at the file next to her. "They call themselves the Friends."

"Like the Quakers?" Rogue said, snorting. "Give 'em points for irony, Ah guess."

Storm continued. "According to Evan, and other sources I've contacted, the group was fairly unorganized up until a month ago. At that point in time, both the intensity and frequency of the attacks increased."

"Have they breached the tunnels?" said Scott, already calculating.

"No. But they came close during the last skirmish, and Evan would like our help to ensure that doesn't happen."

Scott turned to the monitor embedded in a side console and called up a government blueprint of the tunnels. "That's a lot of ground to cover. Do they really think the tunnels are going to stay a secret?" He picked up a mechanical pencil and thought for a moment. "Kitty found these for us?" he asked.

"Yes, I asked her to upload them before we left."

The younger mutant frowned. "I know Kitty's good, but if she can find them…"

"…so can other people," Rogue finished.

"Scott, I'd like you and Rogue to go over the schematics, get a feel for the tunnels. Start formulating a plan, and we can discuss it with Evan when we arrive." She handed Rogue the file folder.

Scott smiled at Rogue. "Ready?"

"Sure," she said, moving to the seat next to his. The awkwardness she used to feel around him, strangely, was gone. She studied the diagram.

"What do you think?" he asked. "Where are they most vulnerable?"

She took the pencil from him without thinking, tapped the screen lightly. "Here," she said decisively, pointing to an industrial area. "Still in the city, so anybody trying to sneak in won't be too obvious, but there's not a lot of pedestrian traffic to worry about. And they can use the factories as cover, get some heavy equipment in. The tunnels there are huge," she added. "They could send an army through there." She pushed away the implications of a rabid anti-mutant group with weapons that needed an entire warehouse to hide in.

Scott nodded. "Yeah. It's a long way in before they hit the Morlock compound, though. We can set up an early warning system."

She traced the map with a gloved finger. "Sounds good," she said absently. Something was bothering her. She could feel it, a whisper at the nape of her neck, pinpricks under her palms. There was something missing, something crucial. Her eyes roved over the master plan, not certain what she was seeking.

Then she saw it. "What if they're not lookin' t'move an army? A quick strike…" she trailed off, punching up a map of another area, a short distance from the previous site. A typical neighborhood -- a little poor, a little run-down. And, she noticed with a growing sense of dread, more tunnels than anywhere else on the map.

Scott nodded, seeing it too. "They'll send multiple teams. Small and fast, all at once. Can't seal them off, though."

She agreed. "It'll trap the Morlocks inside. We need deterrents," she said. "Something to slow them down."

Logan watched the pair, a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"It's quite a change," Storm murmured.

"Yeah," he answered gruffly. "Should be. She's worked her ass off. Nice to see it shows."

"You should be proud. She's facing her demons, gaining a sense of herself again. Confidence becomes her, don't you think?"

He shrugged, caught her speculative gaze. "What?"

"I was only wondering…"

"What?"

She sighed, braced herself. "Is it possible that Gambit has anything to do with her recent improvement?"

"No." Logan narrowed his eyes. "You know more about him than you're telling, 'Ro. Spill it."

She folded her hands, met his stare calmly. "People have a right to keep their pasts to themselves, Logan. Even Remy."

"Not if it's dangerous to the kids," he growled. "Is it?"

Storm considered her words carefully. "I know his family. By reputation," she hurried to add. That was true enough. If you had heard of the Thieves' Guild, you had heard of the LeBeaus, and you had heard of Remy's exile. How close rumor was to truth, she didn't know, and she had no desire to spread half-truths and speculation, especially to Logan.

"What's their reputation?"

"You would judge Remy by his family? Would you judge Rogue by hers?"

He glared silently at the controls in front of him.

She tilted her head. "Remy LeBeau is not his family," she said firmly. "The past is not always prologue. And if you continue to scowl like that, my friend, there is a very good possibility your face will freeze in that expression."

His brows lowered. "Maybe it'd scare the guy off."

"Somehow I doubt it." She smiled as he busied himself with the instruments in front of him.

The flight passed quickly, and Rogue and Scott finished the preliminary plans.

"So," he said casually, as she made a few more notations on the sheet in front of her.

"So what?" She shoved at a lock of hair and crossed her arms.

"You and Gambit seem to be getting pretty close."

She nearly scowled, caught herself. "Is that a problem? Against the rules?"

"It just seems like you're spending a lot of time together," he said carefully, well aware he was treading on dangerous ground.

"Ah guess. Ah've made all my sessions. Ah've been at dinner, just like the Professor wanted."

He eased off, made his tone casual and friendly. "You seem to be doing better."

"Ah'm great," she said shortly. She couldn't shake the look on Remy's face when she was heading for the Blackbird, though.

"Nice costume, chere," he said, falling into step with her outside the briefing room.

"It's a uniform, smart-ass."

He shrugged. "Still nice. Lotta leather." He traced a finger along her collarbone.

She inhaled sharply. "Quit it, Remy. Not out here."

He slid his hand along her side, gently nudging her back against the wall. Bracing one hand next to her head, he kept the other at her waist and curled his fingers around her hip. "Where y' goin'?" he murmured, his mouth close to her ear.

"Did Ah stutter the first fifty times? Ah ain't gonna tell you, Remy. Stop askin'." She blew her hair out of her eyes, exasperated.

" Jus' wanna know where y' goin', chere," he protested. Holding her eyes, he slid the zipper at her throat down an inch, then back up.

She knocked his hand away, glancing around the corridor that led to the Blackbird. She caught sight of Kitty ducking back behind a corner and lowered her voice. "You don't get to have this part of me," she said, more harshly than she meant to.

His mouth tightened. "Right. Secrets. Sure," he said, pushing back from the wall.

"Stripes! Move it!" Logan's voice echoed down the hallway, and she jumped.

She touched his arm gently, wishing she could spill it all out before him. "Ah'll be back in a couple of days, tops. Just my job," she reminded him, and then poked his shoulder, deliberately playful. "Stay outta trouble, will ya, swamp rat?"

"I ain't de one off playin' superhero," he muttered. "Worry 'bout yourself."

She focused in on the schematics again. Turnabout was fair play, she reminded herself. "Seems strange, don't it?"

"What?" Scott glanced back at the schematic, worried he had missed something.

"Spyke callin' us in. Ah thought the Morlocks didn't like Topsiders, even mutant ones."

"Yeah, I thought about that too." Scott glanced toward the cockpit. "I don't think he's giving us the whole story," he continued quietly.

She shook her head. "Why wouldn't he? We're more use to him if we know what's goin' on."

"Who knows why?" Scott asked. "I just think there's more going on here than he's told Storm." He shrugged. "I'll bet you can get it out of him."

"Me?" Rogue looked at him, bewildered and on guard. "Why me?"

He backpedaled. "You guys always got along pretty well when he was here."

"You think?"

"Sure. Better than he and I did, anyway. And you both had these giant chips on your shoulders." Nice, Summers, he thought. Way to put your foot in it.

"Had?" she asked, raising one eyebrow.

He chuckled, rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Yours seems smaller these days."

She smiled, shrugged.

"You know," he said tentatively, "about Gambit…"

She stiffened. "Thought you said it wasn't a problem."

"It's not. Just…be careful, okay?" he said. "We're all grateful that he helped you out, Rogue." Both Jean and the Professor had insisted he still was. "But…"

"What?" she snapped.

"Nothing," he said resignedly. "Just be careful."

"Hey, peanut gallery," came Logan's voice from the cockpit, and Rogue bit back her reply. "Belts on. We're almost there."

Kitty frowned and shook her head so hard that her long brown ponytail whipped furiously back and forth. "I don't know, honestly." Remy had cornered her in the kitchen, and now she was mentally cursing her need for a snack.

"Come on, Kitty-cat. You wouldn't lie, would you?"

"She's on a mission. With Mr. Logan. She's fine, I'm telling you." Kitty folded her arms across her chest and backed up a few more steps.

"Please, petite. Wolvie don' even need t'know."

"He will put a claw through my laptop if I tell you," she said. "And Scott's there, too. Do you know how many extra training sessions he'll make me do if he finds out I told you about a mission location? A secret mission location?" She shook her head again. "Mr. Logan will take care of her."

"She can take care of herself. Dat not de point."

Kitty's brow furrowed. "Then what's the point?"

He gave her his most soulful expression. "I feel better knowin' where she is. Sleep better. Jus' tell me." His gaze locked with hers, and the red of his eyes danced seductively. "It dangerous? Jus' tell me," he repeated. He didn't feel the slightest bit guilty about the charm.

"No, it's not dangerous," she said slowly. "Just a recon mission. For Spyke and the Morlocks."

"Morlocks?"

"They're tunnel-dwellers. They're mutants, but they live in the subway and the sewer tunnels under New York."

"She went to New York." He closed his eyes, swore, and the charm was broken.

"Hey! You totally tricked me!" Kitty cried. "That's not fair!"

"She went to New York?" he repeated.

In for a penny, thought Kitty, and sighed. "Yes."

"Where?"

"I told you. The tunnels."

"Kitty-cat," he said patiently, "New York's a big city. 'Tunnels' don' 'zactly narrow it down."

She wrinkled her nose. "You said you wanted to know where she was. I told you. If you're just curious, you don't need to know any more."

"'Course I do." He shifted his eyes back to her face.

"Do not try that trick again."

"What trick?" He was all schoolboy innocence suddenly, hair falling into his face, smile wide and sweet.

"That…thing…" she sputtered. "With the eyes, and the tricking. Stop that." She looked away, huffed out a breath.

"We're wastin' time," he said. "Where'd you send 'em?"

"Why are you so worried?" she asked. "She's with the team."

"Las' time de fille go to town, she nearly got snatched. Mebbe it not really her town, hein?"

"Mr. Logan won't let anything happen to her."

The schoolboy vanished. "If I thought otherwise, Kitty-cat, I'd already be on dat fancy jet."

She shivered, then jumped as Kurt bamfed in. "Hey, guys," he said, glancing at their faces. "What's wrong?"

Kitty turned, sensing an ally. Remy and Kurt had somehow arrived at a truce in the last few weeks, and the strain between Kurt and Kitty had lessened. Even so, she knew he wouldn't look kindly on Remy trying to follow his sister on a mission. "Remy made me tell him where Rogue and the team went."

"Dude!" He considered for a moment. "She's gonna kill you," he said cheerfully. "And then she'll give your lifeless body to Wolverine. We should make popcorn," he said to Kitty as he moved to the cabinets.

"He's worried about her. He wants to go to New York," she said, looking at Remy balefully.

Kurt waved a hand dismissively and rummaged in the cabinet. "She's fine, Gambit," he said over his shoulder. "She's with— "

"—Wolverine. An' I don' care." He turned back to Kitty, took her hand. "Please. I ain't tryin' t' cause trouble. Dey won't even know I'm dere."

"Mr. Logan will know," she protested. "He's hella good, Remy."

He grinned. "So'm I."

"Tell him," Kurt said, reappearing from the depths of the cabinet with a Pop-Tart.

"What?" she squeaked. "Did you, like, leave your brain behind when you ported? And don't eat that without toasting it. Ew."

Kurt shrugged, bamfed to the toaster. "If he's right, which he's not, then it can't hurt. If he's wrong, and he probably is, we get to watch Rogue and Wolverine go postal on him. It seems like a win-win situation to me."

"T'anks for de vote o'confidence," Remy said dryly.

Kurt smirked. "So when do we leave?"

"We? No sidekicks, blue-boy."

"How am I suppose to watch Rogue kill you if I don't go with? We should pack snacks." He tugged the Pop-Tarts from the toaster, and bit into it, heedless of the temperature.

"Non."

"Ja." Kurt slung an arm around Kitty's shoulder. "You up for a road trip, Katzchen?"

She smiled sweetly at Remy, threaded an arm around Kurt's waist. "I'd love to. Chips or cookies?"

"Both."

"I don' have time for dis," Remy ground out. "Or room. I'm takin' my bike."

"Oh, it's no problem," Kitty said simply. "We'll take the jeep."

"You look thin," Storm said, frowning. They were standing at the shadowy mouth of a corrugated steel tunnel in the industrial zone Scott and Rogue had been studying earlier.

Evan shifted under her gaze. "I'm fine, Auntie O, really."

She reached out and brushed his cheek lightly, worriedly. There was no point, she knew, in asking how he was managing to survive. It would only make him more defensive. She held out a plastic container awkwardly. "Doctor McCoy sent you these."

"Peanut butter! Awesome!" He quickly devoured one, and she beamed at his enthusiasm. Almost regretfully, he snapped the lid back on. "Tell him thanks," he said.

"Have another," she urged.

"Later," he said, not meeting her eyes. He turned to the rest of the group. "Hey, guys."

"Spyke," said Logan. "How's it going?"

"It's going. Thanks for coming out."

"We're happy to help," Scott put in, extending his hand.

Evan shook it, then turned to examine Rogue. She leaned against the tunnel wall, a pack over her shoulder, a large box in her arms. "You gonna make a girl wait here all day? This stuff ain't light, y'know." Her mouth curved up. "It's good to see you, Porcupine."

He grinned. "You too, Skunk-head." She looked okay, he thought. Not happy, exactly, despite the smile playing across her face. But she had always looked to him as if she were braced for a blow, spoiling for a fight, a taut defensive slip of a thing. That tension had transformed into a watchful steadiness, a cool resolve. She was still older than any eighteen-year-old had a right to be, but it seemed to sit easier now. For her sake, he was glad of it. "What's in the box?"

"Medical stuff. Dr. McCoy figured you could use some supplies."

"Antibiotics?" he asked eagerly.

"A few," said Storm. "We assumed you would prefer first aid items."

"They're great, Auntie O. It's just that we can get that stuff from the store. Antibiotics mean doctors, pharmacies. Records. It's a lot more exposure."

"And that," said Callisto, appearing at the end of the tunnel, "is exactly what we want to avoid." She turned to Evan, mouth set. "Have they hidden that ridiculous plane of theirs?"

Logan jerked a thumb at a nearby warehouse. "Friend of ours owns that place. He's storing it for us."

She nodded curtly. "Fine. You shouldn't be standing out here," she said, and strode away.

"Come on in, guys," said Evan. "I'll give you the tour."

A short while later, they stood around a battered metal card table, blueprints of the tunnels spread out around them.

"And the change in tactics was that abrupt?" Storm asked.

"Practically. One day they were a bunch of losers holding up signs at demonstrations, and hassling us outside of grocery stores. Three days later, the same guys – plus a bunch more – ambushed us when we were coming back from the laundromat."

"You? The laundromat?" Rogue said, incredulous. "Damn, Spyke. You have changed."

He shrugged. "Maytag doesn't deliver down here."

"Ah bet." She looked at the map, thinking. "Are you sure it was an ambush, though? They didn't just run into you guys, weren't just out looking for trouble?"

"No way. They were waiting for us."

"How many?" asked Logan, chewing his unlit cigar.

"Eleven." He met the older man's eyes. "They had weapons."

"Same guys?" asked Scott.

"Yeah, mostly."

"How many more incidents have there been, Evan?" Storm said, frowning.

"After that one? Five. They're happening more often, and they're worse each time. More aggressive, more organized. More injuries."

Logan nodded grimly. "Someone's backing them. Weapons, training. Information." He leaned back in the folding chair, propped his feet on the table.

"If they're escalating," said Scott, "It's only a matter of time before they can access the tunnels."

"And we must assume that is their goal," Storm said.

Rogue said nothing, just watched Evan. None of this was news to him, she realized. He knew that the Friends were closing in on the tunnels, that it was just a matter of time. Calling the X-Men in must have been the only option left, and one that meant swallowing buckets full of pride.

Scott indicated the map on the table. "We think these are the areas you're most vulnerable," he said. "We'll want to reinforce those first. Deterrents, delays. A defensive system that will give you guys some room to maneuver and get out."

"No." Evan shook his head and pointed. "Here."

"That's so far in," said Rogue. "The amount of damage these guys could do before…"

"Here," he said firmly. "We need this section safe first. We'll worry about the rest later."

Callisto and Caliban approached the table. "We concur," said Caliban. "Those tunnels are the priority."

"Why?" Rogue asked. "What's in those tunnels?"

Caliban turned to her, impassive. "The children."

Logan's boots hit the ground with a thud.

"You have children here," said Storm, stunned. She covered her eyes with one hand, let it drop. "You cannot be serious. Evan?"

"You're raising kids in these tunnels, Spyke? What are you thinking? What are their parents thinking?" Scott sputtered.

Evan crossed his arms stubbornly. "Some of the parents are Morlocks. Some of them are topsiders who can't take care of their kids."

"You could send them to the Institute," Storm pointed out.

"You mean the secret school for mutants that is all over the news and has been targeted by both government agencies and terrorist organizations? That 'Institute'?" spat Callisto. She tossed her hair disdainfully, turned to Rogue. "What were your parents thinking, sending you to such a place?"

"You really don't want me to answer that," murmured Rogue, shaking her head.

Evan cut in. "Not everyone agrees with the professor, you know."

"So you've opened up your own little boarding school?" Logan demanded. "Christ, what a mess."

"It's not the life you guys want, but it works for some people." He met his aunt's eyes squarely. "It works for me."

"Are you going to help us or not?" demanded Callisto.

"Not until we straighten this out," said Scott.

"Evan. Children? Let us take them back to Charles, enroll them in school. They'll be better off there." Storm reached out a tentative hand towards her nephew.

He stepped back, towards the older Morlocks. "Says who? The Institute isn't a safe haven anymore. And I need to take care of my own."

Storm dropped her hand as if scorched. "Your own."

"I'm sorry," he said softly, not meeting his aunt's gaze.

"But your parents…"

"Wanted me to grow up. I have."

Storm looked around blankly. "It is too close in here," she said suddenly. "I would like some fresh air." She turned on her heel and left.

Evan started after her. "Not now," said Logan, grasping the boy by the wrist.

"She won't know how to get out. She'll get lost!"

"She won't. You think she'd come down here and not memorize exactly how to get above ground again?"

The group stood in awkward silence, muffled drips of water and diffused street noises the only interruptions. Finally, Rogue crossed over to the box of medical supplies and hefted them. "Where do you want these?"

"We have an infirmary," said Caliban. "I will show you."

"I'll take her," said Evan quickly.

Rogue glanced at Logan. "Okay with you?" she asked.

"Go ahead, kid. We'll make some revisions, and talk when everybody's back."

Evan picked up a second box. "This way," he said, heading down a side tunnel dimly lit with sulfur-colored emergency lights.

They sloshed through puddles of what could loosely be called water. After several turns and branches, he spoke. "She's disappointed," he said over his shoulder.

"Yeah." She smiled in sympathy. "It's hard, isn't it? Bein' what people expect?"

"I can't do it, Rogue. Not even for her."

"Ah know."

He stopped. "Here," he said, indicating a short tunnel to the left. A dingy shower curtain hung from top of the entrance.

"This is your med room?" She turned around, taking in a cot, a plastic lawn chair, a flimsy particleboard bookshelf with a few meager first-aid supplies. "Does anyone survive?"

"We've got places we can go topside if it's really bad. I just don't like to owe people."

She set the box on the chair, started unloading supplies. "Musta killed you to call us, huh?"

He jerked his shoulder. The fights with Callisto over calling the X-Men had been bitter, threatening the sense of family that made life underground bearable. She had finally agreed only after several of the children had witnessed the latest fight with the Friends. He turned the subject. "I'm glad you came."

"You know the prof wants to help."

"I'm glad you came. Auntie O told me you've had a rough time. Are things better now?" He stood next to her, sorting bandages and ointment into shoeboxes.

She concentrated on lining up bottles of painkillers. "Doctor McCoy said you need to keep an eye on these. They're pretty strong," she said. Then, more quietly. "Yeah."

"Looks like it. You're different."

"Yeah. You too. And not just cause you got all pointy." He gave her a mock glare. She reached into the box, pulled out two bottles. "Amoxycillin. You've gotta mix 'em together right before you give it out, or it goes bad."

"I know the drill."

She looked at him curiously. "That's why you wanted the antibiotics, isn't it? For the kids?"

He groaned. "Do you know how many things little kids catch? Ear infections. Bronchitis. Strep. Every time I turn around, one of them's running a fever. It's like living with Toad, all the snot they make. It's disgusting."

"And you're playing nurse?" She laughed, genuinely amused.

"No way. I just make sure that we have what they need."

She nodded. "You're a good leader."

"Not really. But I'm learning." Peroxide, rubbing alcohol, cotton balls all went into a plastic tub on the shelf.

"So when do I meet the rugrats?"

"When do I hear about the guy?"

She blushed. "Storm told you?"

"She told me."

"So what are you askin' me for?" She finished shelving the rest of the supplies. "All set."

"You're not getting off that easy, Rogue. Let's go see the kids."

Click ahead for Part Two.