Xavier's School
August, 2004

It was silent tonight in the halls of the mansion. Too quiet for Cassandra's liking. Light's out was two hours ago, and she'd been lying there awake for almost half that—her mind a bustling hive with a swarm just waiting for a reason to strike. Its buzzing was loud, uncomfortable as she rolled over on the springs once again. John slept through her unease. He usually did.

The boy was a heavy sleeper, leaving him unaware of her tossing and turning, fighting for a comfortable spot to finally rest. His arm remained draped over her torso, where he placed it before drifting off—thanks to Cassandra's more careful movements. She knew he was a little more difficult to wake up than that, but the thought of interrupting his slumber for something so benign riddled her with preemptive guilt.

However, an hour was long enough. Her body itched and burned, begging her to get up and do something, and she couldn't pretend like she didn't feel it any longer. "I'm going to the bathroom. I'll be right back," she whispered, fingers easing his arm away from her torso. John mumbled into the pillow something that sounded like an 'okay', but he was still very much asleep and the reply was simply a subconscious response to her voice. Her lips curved up into a small smile before she pressed them to his right temple. Then, she eased herself out of bed.

Upon standing up, her mind quieted enough to give her a dizzying pang of tiredness, but it wore off just as quickly as it came. She walked lightly to the door and turned the lock, before guiding it open enough to slip into the dim hallway. This was common for her. It was something she and John started doing a few months before—they'd wait long enough after light's out, and then Cassandra would teleport to his room. At first, it was simply an easy way to be intimate without the adults finding out.

Though, over time, it was a habit to simply arrive and fall asleep together. Then, she would get restless and need to escape for a while, to walk around long enough to tire her ever-active mind before coming back. So, she walked the hallways and pattered down the stairs when she'd seen enough of them. She passed Jones in the common room twice, catching a different channel on the television in front of him every time, but she would expect nothing less.

Poor Jones didn't really sleep either. Instead, he sat on the couch, blinking his way through the various programs on at such a late hour to pass the time. Cassandra stopped at the doorway on her third trek with an exhale through her nostrils. "Find anything good?" she asked him.

"Discovery has a special about rhinos," he sighed, thoroughly bored.

"Killer," she tiredly quipped. "Want anything from the kitchen?"

He shook his head, so she turned on her heels and backtracked to the kitchen just down the hall. During each pass, she hadn't noticed the light pouring into the side hall from the doorway. Its soft glow was startling. Slowly, she stepped toward the door, head tipped curiously as she approached. Little did she know—it was Bobby. He sat at the island, facing the arched doorway with a tub of ice cream. He pushed his spoon around numbly, his mind somewhere else, unaware of Cassandra's entrance to the kitchen.

"Come here often?" she quipped, startling him out of his daze.

He looked up with wide eyes, but relaxed with a sigh upon seeing her. "I thought you were turning in."

"Eh," she shrugged as she reached for a cupboard on the other side of the kitchen. "Couldn't sleep. Why are you awake? Girl troubles again?"

Bobby's second sigh was heavy. Yes, in fact, it was. He was embarrassed to admit it—but it was true. His feelings for Rogue were real, and she was important to him, but there were so many questions no one would be able to answer. It was hard not to become a bit depressed thinking about it. It plagued him through the night, wondering what to do, how to connect with her without touch, until he finally had to get up.

What good was sorrow without sugar, anyway? So, there he sat, nursing his doubts with some ice cold rocky road. He nodded silently, scooping up another spoonful. Cassandra shuffled with a glass to the fridge and held it under the front dispenser, filling the glass with water. "Wanna talk about it?"

"I don't know. Probably wouldn't help," he shrugged, staring into his ice cream. It was quiet for a moment as he shoved the spoonful into his mouth. Cassandra brought her water to the island, setting the glass beside the tub of ice cream, before sliding onto the adjacent stood. Then, after a few chews, he was talking again. "I just don't know what to do anymore. How does a relationship like this even work?"

"You guys don't have to touch to be together," Cassandra said, lifting the glass to her lips.

Bobby snorted. "Easy to say when you regularly have sex with your boyfriend—and it's gross that I know that, by the way. I can't even hold Rogue's hand unless she's wearing gloves."

"You know what I mean," she tilted her head, giving him a look. "We don't know if Rogue will ever be able to touch someone. You have to figure out if that's something you're up for. If it's not, you need to tell her. Moping around eating ice cream while you drag her—and yourself—along isn't going to help anything."

"Yeah, but how do I even figure that out, Cass? I've never been in love before."

"Neither have I—John's an asshole sometimes but I can deal with that. If that behavior gets worse or I'm sick of it, I'll move on. Whatever you decide doesn't have to be permanent. You can change your mind. Fuck, I mean, we're sixteen-"

Bobby tilted his head to look up at her from his carton as he interrupted, "Uh- you're still fifteen."

A teasing smile played on his lips, patronizing her as a brother would. Cassandra's eyebrows drew together, lips coiling with annoyance as she reached out, sending her knuckles into the side of his upper arm. "Jesus," both teens startled as Logan stepped into the kitchen tiredly. "Doesn't anybody in this place sleep?"

He didn't wait for a response before moving to the fridge, pulling open both doors and peering in to search for something specific. Cassandra sighed and returned to her glass, lifting it to her lips to take another drink, as Bobby absentmindedly pushed half-melted ice cream around in the container. "I guess not," Bobby said.

"You got any beer?" Logan questioned, looking over his shoulder.

Bobby's eyebrows raised on his forehead in disbelief. "This is a school."

Cassandra's eyes moved in a straight line to the left, right to Bobby's face, as her eyebrows subtly raised on her forehead as well. Really? she was questioning. That's the best you can do? Of course there was alcohol. It was tucked away, hidden in a vent at the back of Peter's closet—the last place the adults would go looking. Cassandra had asked—no, begged—him to let her keep it there and, eventually, he gave in.

"You got anything other than chocolate milk, then?"

"There should be some sodas in that small cupboard," Bobby answered, pointing to a high cupboard on the left wall of the kitchen. Logan sighed heavily as he closed up the refrigerator and sauntered promptly to the cupboard he was directed. Bobby looked questioningly at Cassandra, but she only shrugged. How was she to know why Logan was awake?

It was true they seemed close, though they didn't spend time exchanging personal details. Their friendship, their bond, was surface level. She thought about the validity of that statement as her index finger circled the rim of her glass, watching Logan retrieve one of the glass-bottled sodas from the cabinet. Yes, she felt attached to him in the faintest way. No, that wasn't it. Protective.

Protective, defensive, loyal—all synonyms within this emotion. It was hard for her to decipher its meaning by herself, but there was no way she was going to ask one of the adults for help. This was best kept to herself. Close to her chest, where it belonged. Logan twisted open the cap of the drink and raised it, pausing suddenly halfway. An ingenious idea came to his mind.

Turning toward Bobby, he held out the glass, and Bobby didn't hesitate to take it from him. Bobby blew gently on the bottle and a soft wind of ice coated the inside of the glass, effectively chilling the liquid. Then, he handed it back to Logan. "Thanks," Logan tipped his head, before taking a pull from the bottle.

"No problem," Bobby returned the nod.

Cassandra chuckled once, beneath her breath. "You should've been here when the freezer quit last week. It was quite the show."

"Was it now?" Logan cocked his head, smiling loosely down at her. He then stepped closer to the island before lowering himself onto one of the stools, across from the teens. "Did you at least build a snowman or something?"

"Jean said not in the kitchen," Cassandra replied, with a shake of her head.

Logan chuckled. He'd spoken the comment in jest, but the thought of Cassandra begging Jean to allow her permission for snowman building out of Bobby's snow in this very room was more than humorous. The more he thought about it, the more it did sound like something Cassandra would attempt. "We went outside for that part," Bobby added. He smiled at the memory as he dug around in the ice cream.

They waited until his assistance was no longer needed, and then Bobby took Cassandra and Kitty, Rogue and Lori, outside to the lawn. It wasn't more than an ice sculpture, but the creation was a team effort—or, so he let them believe. Either way, it was a nice way to blow off steam and enjoy the weekend. "I heard you got a boyfriend now," Logan changed the subject, looking primarily at Cassandra.

When he first arrived earlier in the evening, he'd asked Rogue to fill him in on what he missed. She told him a lot of bland, basic events and happenings, but also a few social changes. Logan was more than surprised to hear this one, though. Although he couldn't put a finger on why, he had assumed she was attracted to girls. Maybe it was her closeness with Kitty? Or Jubilee? Or Lori? No, it was definitely Kitty.

Cassandra was a bit taken aback by the new topic, but she didn't shy away from it. Instead, she nodded and took another drink. "Yeah. John and I have been kind of dating for almost a year. We just made it a thing a couple months ago."

"A year? Wow. That's like ten for you guys. So he's treating you right? I don't need to pull his ass outta bed and scare him, do I?"

"God, no-"

Though, Bobby interrupted with another patronizing smile, his words partially in jest, "No, he's just an asshole to other people."

Cassandra's eyes shifted to Bobby's face, their lack of amusement only making his smile a bit wider. It wasn't like she disagreed—however, she did wish that he didn't say those things in front of someone like Logan. Neither Cassandra nor Bobby would put it past him to do just as he said, and that was the last thing they needed. Logan glanced between them, taking a drink from his soda as he observed the clear but untranslatable conversation happening before him. "Oh, so you're into bad boys," he mused, fanning the invisible flames.

Whatever response Cassandra quipped with fell on deaf ears. Sounds called to him, tickling his sensitive eardrums from somewhere else, enough to turn his head. They sounded like footsteps. Voices through a tin can—no, a radio. Clanks and clatters, gear and guns. It pulled Logan to his feet, abandoning the bottle on the island countertop to step closer to the doorway, listening a bit closer.

Both Bobby and Cassandra paused the moment Logan stood, his sudden movement surprising but more so worrisome. "What is it?" Bobby asked, ruefully. Logan shushed them both as he slowly moved closer to the door. Bobby stood quietly from his stool and turned to walk toward the window, peering through the glass into the darkness of the yard. Cassandra's stomach tightened.

Something was wrong. That much was clear by Logan's behavior. He disappeared to the right, down the side hall, and she slid off the stool instinctively. "Bobby-" she darted toward him, tugging gently on his arm. "Get away from the window."

"Why? What's going on-?"

A soldier dressed in heavy, camouflage gear with a large gun walked through the doorway. However, he opted for a much smaller gun in his other hand, raising it to aim at Bobby's back. But Logan was on him in a second, grabbing the man's arms and pinning them behind his back with a snarl, "You picked the wrong house, bub."

The commotion turned both teens around. Their eyes blew wide, adrenaline set loose in their veins—though, Logan's assault on the soldier was interrupted by a loud, incredibly high-pitched screaming. Bobby's hands clapped over his ears to block out the sound, partially to no avail, as Logan cried out. Then, the soldier gained an ounce of upper-hand, lifting his larger gun to begin firing. Cassandra quickly grabbed for Bobby and pulled him forward with her, diving behind the island to miss a spray of bullets.

It was the constant scream that awoke every other student in the mansion. The sound was simultaneously a defense mechanism and a warning, making the little girl behind it a kind of canary in a coal mine. She continued to scream until a soldier in her room mustered the strength to fire a set of tranquilizer darts at her neck. The screaming stopped only as she fell back in her bed, unconscious.

Logan grunted as he wrestled with the soldier in the kitchen, the soldier's knife slicing across his cheek as he forced him back, into the front of the island. But, a second later, the cut was healed. Logan loosed his metallic claws and, with a cry of fury, shoved the soldier's back against the fridge, before sinking both sets of knives on his knuckles into the soldier's chest.

Bobby rose up on his knees to peer cautiously over the edge of the island. It was then that Cassandra grabbed his arm once more, gaining his attention. "Siryn. She's in trouble," she said, her voice quick and breathy from the burn in her lungs.

"I know," Bobby stood up, pulling her to her feet with him. "We'll find her, okay?"

"You guys okay?" Logan questioned, chest heaving.

Bobby nodded, and Cassandra followed suit despite the worry fraying her nerves. All of the children were in trouble now. At least the warning would give the other students some time to get out before the soldiers reached them. It was the nightmare scenario, the one the adults had prepared them for under the guises of words like 'could' and 'maybe' and 'if'. Yet, here it was.

Cassandra was nine years old when she asked just how possible this occasion was. Scott answered with a story from his childhood, confessing that he himself had been a victim of such a thing as a teenager. And although Jean had been there to spin it into a lesson with a positive outlook, it had remained in the back of Cassandra's mind, aging with her in the form of subtle paranoia and fear that often manifested itself within her rage.

But it wasn't just a story anymore, it wasn't unfounded paranoia—it was happening. Logan grabbed Bobby by his arm and yanked, pulling him along quickly toward the doorway with him, and Cassandra followed closely as her heart pounded inside her chest. Logan stepped out, into the main hall, and froze. Three, four—five soldiers stood further down the hallway, all dressed like the first and adorned with guns and flashlights.

Logan quickly shoved Bobby back by his chest with a quick command, "Stay here." Then he let Bobby go completely, before marching down the hallway toward the soldiers. As Logan began to sink his claws into the first soldier he could reach, the screams and thumping of footsteps from the children upstairs bled through the floor, drawing the eyes of the teens.

"Bobby-"

"Let's go," Bobby nodded quickly to Cassandra. She didn't hesitate to grab his shoulder and teleport, leaving the downstairs hallway for the hallway two floors up. The screams were louder now, the rumble of helicopters mixing with them.

As Cassandra let go of his arm, she told him, "Find Rogue—I'll help the kids downstairs."

Bobby was caught off guard by her words, unable to comprehend them quickly in the stressful circumstance. "Wait, what-?"

Then, she was gone. Instead, she appeared on the second floor, at the end of a hall. Siryn's room was just down it and to the left, she knew. Her feet started moving before her mind could tell them to. But, suddenly, the wall on her left broke through, two soldiers flying out of Siryn's room and into the wall to Cassandra's right.

She skidded against the carpet to stop in time before she could be hit with the shredded wood of the wall or trip on the bodies of the soldiers. As kids pooled behind her from around the corner, Peter carried Siryn's limp body through the opening in the wall as silver faded from his skin, and the relief she could've felt from either things was quickly replaced with more terror as white light flooded in through the window behind them all.

"This way," Peter tipped his head to the left, and the kids ran by Cassandra to follow him as he began walking.

Arms grabbed hold of Cassandra and she lurched, but a familiar voice was quick to ease her nerves. "Hey, it's me!" Lori shouted over the kids and the helicopters, pulling Cassandra to follow the group of kids. "Where's John and Bobby?"

Cassandra shook her head. "I don't know—Bobby and I split up. Have you seen Kitty?"

"Yeah, she was helping kids group with us, but I haven't seen her in a while," Lori answered, reaching out an arm to guide one of the younger kids along faster. It was like a small herd, with the majority of children being younger than thirteen, and Lori had volunteered as a shepherd. She was always involved with the younger kids since she first arrived at the mansion two years ago.

She'd felt protective of each one of them, taking an almost motherly role amongst the students. So, it wasn't surprising to Cassandra that Lori was herding the children now like a loyal border collie, bringing its sheep to the safety of the escape door. There was one on every level, an access point to the tunnels beneath the mansion. Charles made sure of it that drills were run frequently for such a time as this.

Peter lead the group right to it, Lori keeping track of the kids that trailed behind. He handed off Siryn to two of the older kids, and they held her up as he stepped closer to the wall, the panel he knew the door to be behind. Then, the side of his fist slammed hard into the panel. It was enough to break it loose, the panel sliding open with a creak to reveal the tunnel access, and the kids began to flood inside.

Lori let go of Cassandra to better guide the children, moving to the other side of the access to help them inside. But Cassandra stood back. She could leave now, get somewhere safe, and make sure this group makes it out to the woods. Though, she couldn't fight the lump surging into her throat at the thought of leaving John and Bobby behind. And still, Kitty was unaccounted for. Where was Jubilee?

How could she leave in good conscience with so many still in the mansion? "Cass, come on," Lori waved a hand to usher her forward, toward the access.

Again, Cassandra shook her head. "I have to find John. I'm sorry."

"Be careful," Peter nodded once. "If it looks like you're not gonna make it, get out. Don't wait around if you can't find him, okay? Promise."

"I promise."

She returned the nod without hesitation before teleporting again, disappearing before them. Lori exhaled heavily through her nose as she guided the last child through the access. If it were up to her, she would have kept Cassandra with them. She knew firsthand how reckless Cassandra could be, how quickly she could get caught up in her emotions, and a situation like this was the worst time to let her go somewhere alone.

There was no one to anchor her, and it could be catastrophic if she were forced to defend herself. But there was no time to debate it. Logan rounded the hall corner with Jones' limp body in his arms, gaining Peter's attention—and thus attaining Lori's, too. "Hey, take him," Logan said, as he approached quickly. "He's stunned."

Peter stepped forward and Logan placed Jones into his arms. "What are you going to do?" Lori asked, looking up at Logan.

"I'm gonna buy you guys some time. Get outta here."

Logan turned on his heels and hurried down the length of the hallway, only stopping at the corner by Peter's voice as he called to him, "I can help you." Of course he could. There was no denying that. Once Colossus, Peter could easily throw as many soldiers from the mansion as necessary. But he was just a child, like the rest of them, and he was needed elsewhere.

"Help them," Logan shook his head.

Peter disagreed with the decline of his offer, but ultimately understood the rationale. After all, the reasoning was unconscious in his ungodly muscled arms. Lori slipped into the access and Peter bent to follow behind her, the pair a bit behind the others, but the kids waited for them to catch up in the tunnels. Despite the frequent drills, it was easy for the younger ones to get lost—or, for fear to simply block the information from their brains under pressure.

When Cassandra appeared in a hallway on the second floor, it was absolute chaos. Students ran through like they were on fire, the lights from the helicopters circling the mansion casting shadows as they shined through the windows, and doors hung open from the quick and violent exits. But Cassandra started moving, dodging the students fluttering through as she skidded around a corner.

Then, the hallways were suddenly empty. All the students beyond this point had already fled. It was a positive thing, but the sight was far too ominous to be celebrated. Still, Cassandra started running. If there weren't other students clogging up the halls, it shouldn't be hard to make sure the others had gotten out, should it? So she ran quickly, drifting around corners like a professional stunt driver, heart pounding in her chest—and then, impact.

Her front slammed into something, the left side of her body hitting most of it, and she was spun. She was sent sprawling to the carpet, Rogue in the same position opposite her. The hit was jarring, added to that the brief contact of skin and the hard drop into the solid floor—they were both sure to bruise. Cassandra groaned as Rogue scrambled to sit up, the adrenaline from the night far away from wearing thin.

"Cass? Are you okay?" she questioned in a panic. "Why are you still here?"

Cassandra pushed herself up into a sitting position before getting on her knees, pausing to let the swirling in her head slow down. "I'm fine. I came to look for-"

"Rogue! Cass!"

It was Bobby's voice. Cassandra looked up—too quickly not to worsen her dizziness—and, sure enough, it was Bobby. John was at his side, the pair racing from the other end of the hall. Rogue pushed herself to her feet with a grimace as they approached rapidly. John was frantic, dropping to his knees with a brief slide on the carpet as he reached Cassandra. Hands on her shoulders, he looked for injuries, eyes scanning her at warp speed.

"Hey- are you okay? Are you hurt?"

Cassandra was still dizzied, but she lunged at him, wrapped her arms around his neck tightly. "I'm okay, it's just a bump on the head."

"We ran into each other—literally," Rogue explained, apologetically.

"What the hell is wrong with you, huh?" John pulled away to see Cassandra's face, his voice risen with adrenaline-fueled panic. "What are you still doing in here?"

"I was looking for you, asshole! I'm not leaving you behind," Cassandra defended herself, voice rising to match his.

John wanted to be angry. He wanted to voice his frustrations with her decision, voice all the reasons why it was foolish and naive, to reprimand her for putting herself in danger. But she came back for him—she risked her own capture because she couldn't leave without knowing he got out, too. And although she did worry about the others as well, it would've been impossible to reconcile escaping without him.

"Damn you," John shook his head at the situation before leaning in, placing a haste kiss on her lips. Then he stood, pulling her to her feet with him, an arm around her torso to support her as he tugged her close. "Let's get out of here."