A/N: This one took a while, not sure why. I know I keep saying it, but I'm seriously going to try to update more frequently. We'll see if it actually happens...

To the guest reviewer: Maybe it's because they never interact in the movies, but I've never been able to get into the Kitty/Pete pairing, so it's really hard for me to write. I'm also not really big on writing relationships, at least not explicitly. Sorry I can't fulfill your request :( Thanks for the review though!

Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men.


Professor Xavier, from behind his desk, is hesitating over a stack of paperwork with a heavy ballpoint pen hovering in one hand. Around him, the X-Men are spread across the room in various positions: seated in mismatched chairs or milling about, talking. The room feels like a tornado sliced in half, the Professor its calm eye. Kitty, distracted, only catches slivers of the conversation. When she looks around, she notices two people are conspicuously absent. "Where are Bobby and Scott?" she asks Storm.

"Scott's taking Bobby to the DMV."

"The DMV?"

"To apply for a learner's permit," the Professor explains, placing his pen to the side and rejoining the room. "He has decided to start driving."

"He…what?"

"Dri-ving," Logan enunciates loudly, trying to get a rise out of her and clearly enjoying it. He's leaning back in his chair as far as it will go, chewing on an unlit cigar the way he likes to do. Kitty scowls deeply at him.

"We have quite a few cars in the garage," Storm clarifies, somehow understanding Kitty's unspoken question. "Surely you didn't think that only Piotr would be allowed the privilege? Once Bobby obtains his driver's license, he too may start signing out cars."

"Except Scott's," drawls Logan.

"I suppose you believe that privilege belongs only to you," the Professor observes, eyes twinkling. Rogue snorts, though everyone else looks mystified.

Piotr glances over at Kitty. "It is not such a difficult process," he puts in. "There is a five hour class, and a certain number of hours of practice with an adult, but that is all."

"I will not be the one taking that kid out to practice," Logan says under his breath, eliciting snickers. Kitty isn't sure whether he's referring to her or to Bobby, but her mind is wandering already anyways. She feels a little overwhelmed with this information. It's as if she'd forgotten that regular life still goes on, member of a mutant vigilante team or not. The real world seems very far removed from her here. The very idea of learner's permits and driving tests sends her imagination out briefly into a vision of a tangent her life could have taken—if she'd said okay to her father and no to the Professor, if she'd stayed home and ignored her mutation and tried her very best to just be a normal girl. She would have learned to drive and gotten a summer job and applied to college. Will she ever do that here? Does she want to?

She steals a look at Pete. Maybe he'll be going to college, too—she's never thought of this before, but maybe she'll see him in just a few days, studying for the SATs, writing personal essays. Will he stick around? Will Rogue go, too? Will Bobby?

She's struck by that same fear she thought she saw in Jubilee not too long ago, the fear of her friends moving on without her. This just seems like the first step.


"So, you got your permit today?" Kitty asks.

Bobby riffles through the pages of his textbook without looking at her. "Yup," he answers, hooking his fingers in the first chapter and flipping the pages back.

"You didn't tell me you were going to learn to drive."

He shrugs. "I just sort of decided one day," he says. "I didn't think about it a whole lot or anything."

"So when you get your license…you can go out? Like, whenever you want?"

Bobby looks up at her for the first time, a slight smile pulling at his lips. "Well, I have a curfew," he tells her. "And classes and training and everything, but other than that, yeah. I guess so."

"That sounds nice," Kitty says wistfully. She turns a page in her own textbook, the sounds of the library hovering around her. Stevie and Theresa are whispering at the table behind theirs, and farther away, somewhere in the stacks, it sounds like someone is pulling books from the shelves and dropping them unceremoniously on the floor. Kitty is tempted to go yell at whoever it is, but then Bobby speaks again.

"You know," he says, "you could get your permit too. Well, when you turn sixteen."

It's almost the same thing that Piotr was saying to her yesterday; hearing it again makes it seem that much more real. Things are changing, whether she likes it or not. Soon Bobby will be driving and then he'll be going to college and then maybe he'll get a job somewhere, and Kitty—well, she doesn't know, but it feels like everything is spiraling out of her control.

"Kit?" Bobby's peering at her intently. "What's wrong?"

"What? Nothing. I'm fine." She purposefully straightens her face out, smoothing away the worry lines. But Bobby sees through it, as he always does.

He closes his textbook. "Tell me."

"I'm just…thinking about the future." She lets out a breath, but it comes out more shuddery than she would like. "I mean, I don't know what it's going to be like. I don't know if you'll still be there, or where I'll be, or…"

"Hey." Bobby moves closer, touches her arm gently. "Whatever's going to happen, I'll be there. I'm always going to be your friend."

"Are you, though?" she whispers.

He leans back with a dramatic sigh. "All right, Kitty, you want to be real? I have no idea where I'm going to be in the future, either. I don't even know where I'm going to be next year. I mean, I'm getting ready to graduate, and Rogue is too, and now we have to think about if we're going to college and how we're going to pay for it and where we're going to go and—" he takes a breath, "you know, all of that. It's a lot to think about, and it probably will be for you too. But we'll figure it out. And, Kit, I'm serious. I'm always going to be there for you."

Whoever was throwing books around in the stacks has stopped. Kitty lets out a breath. It's not a guarantee of any kind, but the conviction in his voice makes her believe it, too—and maybe that's what really matters. "So wise," she says, unable to help teasing.

"Come on, be serious," Bobby groans. "I just bared my soul to you."

"It's okay, because you know it's the same for me." She smiles shyly at him. "I'll always be there for you, too."

"Unless something else comes up," he jokes easily. "So…now that we've got that cleared up…will you help me with Comp Sci?"


She's quickly outgrowing the assignments in that class. Scott shrugs and promotes her to TA—half joking, but Kitty falls easily into her new role. With some string-pulling on the part of the Professor, she registers for an online computer science course at a higher level and studies the lessons carefully in a corner of the lab during Scott's lectures, patrolling the row of students intermittently to offer assistance.

Bobby always laughs and calls her Ms. Pryde when she passes him. And every time, against a backdrop of Rachael's smirks and Sam's snorts, Kitty wrinkles her nose and threatens to stop helping him.


During an especially grueling Danger Session, Storm pairs the team members up, placing Kitty with Rogue and Scott. They fight their way through a maze, just the three of them. Kitty and Scott both use their mutations, but Rogue relies solely on her hand-to-hand combat skills as she tends to do. The professors usually let this slide. Today, however, the simulation seems to have pushed Scott a little too far and he is not having it. "You can use your mutation to your advantage, Rogue," he grunts during a brief lull in the fighting. "Just a second won't drain anyone. Borrow Kitty's ability."

A robot steps out at them as they round a corner, and Scott's too preoccupied with destroying it to notice the stricken looks on both girls' faces. They both hesitate; then Rogue tentatively slips off a glove and approaches.

Kitty panics. She's a little frightened of Rogue, honestly, and she feels bad for it sometimes: it seems everyone is frightened of Rogue, and she doesn't want to add to it. But it's not Rogue sucking the life out of her that she's afraid of: what really frightens her is how Rogue knows everyone so well, nearly as well as they know themselves. They are in her head. She's captured them; she holds all their secrets.

And Rogue, in turn, is unknowable.

Rogue hasn't absorbed Kitty yet, but she's always thought, helplessly, that it was only a matter of time, that before long Rogue would have all of her secrets, too—everything. That Rogue would contain a little piece of her.

And now that gloveless hand is reaching for her, reaching to steal a sliver of her mind. In an instinctual panic, Kitty steps deliberately back.

Rogue's face contorts: first in hurt, then in anger, and finally in something that makes Kitty the saddest: resignation. She opens her mouth to explain herself, to apologize, but Rogue has heard this far too often and she just shakes her head wordlessly and turns and hurries after Scott.

Kitty feels hot shame flushed bright across her face. Rogue is self conscious about her mutation as it is; she shouldn't have made it worse. Ahead, Scott is scouting the area for more enemies, Rogue trailing behind him. So Kitty breathes and folds her shame into intangibility and runs to catch up.


She falls in beside Rogue as they file out. "Sorry about earlier," she says.

Rogue shrugs listlessly. "I'm used to it."

Kitty doesn't feel that anything's resolved, but Rogue makes it clear the conversation is over by turning a corner abruptly, leaving Kitty behind.


At dinner, Rogue and Bobby are eating at a table alone. Kitty veers away from them purposefully and is heading towards Pete and Jubilee (luckily those two aren't dating, or she really would be a constant third wheel) when Bobby waves her over. Hesitant, Kitty doubles back.

"Hey," she says, hovering awkwardly.

"Hey," Rogue and Bobby chorus, then give each other sheepish smiles. "Sit down," Bobby says, gesturing to an empty seat.

Kitty does, and surprisingly it's not as awkward as she thought. Actually, it turns out to be pretty fun, until Bobby, who's a fast eater, finishes his dinner before either of them and stands. "I've got a ton of homework," he says, unapologetically. "See you guys later."

He shoots them one last impish smile and darts off.

Kitty and Rogue trade awkward looks in his wake, aware that they've been set up. Finally Rogue sighs. "He wanted us to talk," she confesses.

"Sneaky," Kitty mutters. Rogue doesn't reply, and another uncomfortable silence slides in like a fog.

"He told me you're scared of me knowing all your thoughts and feelings," Rogue says suddenly. Kitty jumps a little, startled. She doesn't know how Bobby knows this about her. It isn't something she's told him.

"You think I want all your secrets?" Rogue says into Kitty's silence. She sounds angry; her words are sharp. "You think I want you in my head, mixing up your thoughts with mine?"

"No," Kitty whispers.

Rogue shakes her head. "You people always want me to embrace my mutation. And you wonder why I don't want to." She clenches a gloved fist, the only one visible above the table.

"I just thought…that you could control it. So that it wouldn't own you."

"Kitty, I've been working with the Professor for months. Nothing's changed. You're an optimist, and there's nothing wrong with that, but…you're being naïve." She looks away; her fist relaxes, the fingers curling loosely against the tabletop. "I'm being realistic."

"It might take a long time, but that doesn't mean—"

"I don't want to spend any more time trying to learn to control it. It's not working. I'm tired of everyone being afraid of me—and I'm tired of being afraid of myself. I just want it to go away," Rogue bites back fiercely, surprising Kitty a little. "You would think the same if you were in my place. You wouldn't be so quick to judge me then."

And now Kitty thinks of it reversed: if she were the one holding everyone's secrets inside her, secrets and thoughts that plagued her and wouldn't leave her alone; if she were the one having people's nightmares for them, and holding all their memories jumbled up with hers. All of this, just with a touch.

"Yeah," Kitty says slowly. "Yeah, you're right. I wouldn't. I'm sorry."

Rogue exhales deeply and seems to deflate, as if all the fierceness has drained right out of her. The change is so quick that Kitty almost misses it. "I'm sorry," she says after a moment, laying both hands out flat on the table: a gesture of peace. "I didn't mean to get so worked up."

"You had every right," Kitty answers carefully.

The quiet that settles over them this time is easier. They both pick up their utensils and eat, slowly, mutely. Kitty finishes first and decides to try for a more normal conversation. "So…how do you like being on the team?" she ventures. This is good territory for small talk: it invites shared complaints, remembered comical moments.

Rogue tucks away the last bites of her salad. "It's all right," she replies haltingly. "Fighting feels good. I like knowing that—that next time," the carefully placed emphasis draws Kitty's attention to white streaked hair, reminds her of screaming children and claw marks on walls, "I'll be able to fight back."

This she can relate to. "Me, too. Like…next time, maybe I'll make a difference," she says, and Rogue graces her with the barest of smiles, and maybe nothing's solved but it does feel better like this, understanding.


Thanksgiving at the mansion is an elaborate affair, considering the amount of food some of the students can put away. The same (very discreet—that was a must, the Professor has told her) company that normally takes care of meals brings over entire tubs of turkey and mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce, while a few select professors prepare pies for dessert with varying levels of skill. Kitty eats far more than she should and ends up in what the other students dub 'a food coma'. She's joined by the majority of the mansion's inhabitants.

The professors are a little more liberal with their rules, so after eating and napping, the kids stay up watching movies of their choice. This year, a vote has settled on School of Rock, followed by Holes. Kitty finds a spot on the floor (the couch and the chairs are all full) and, cozy and full and happy, eventually falls asleep right there along with most of the other students. Jones wakes them all up early in the morning and they all laugh with each other and trudge up to their rooms, full of a sleepy kind of happiness. The next week everything is back to normal, but that perfectly content feeling lingers with Kitty for a long time.


She's doing some extra work on an assignment in the computer lab when she notices, from the corner of her eye, someone enter and drop down at one of the computers near the door. Kitty turns to find Bobby slumped there sullenly. Approaching, she sees the folded paper in front of him and the brooding look on his face.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

To her surprise, his face crumples and he immediately tells her. "My mother sent me a letter," he says, his lips tightening into a thin line.

"Oh," Kitty breathes. "What did she say?"

"She wants to talk," he says. His voice is hoarse. "Her and my dad. They want to talk to me."

"Do you want to?"

He worries the edge of the folded paper between two fingers. "Of course I do. But what if nothing's changed? I don't want to hear my mom asking me again if I've tried not being a mutant."

Kitty winces. "She really said that?"

"Yep. She did."

"People just aren't really educated about mutants yet," she reasons haltingly. "So they say stupid things, I guess. It doesn't hurt to try talking to them again. You never know."

"Yeah." Bobby sighs. "I just have no idea what to expect."

It's hard, not knowing. Kitty knows this, and she reaches out and taps him affectionately on the shoulder. "Whatever happens, they're reaching out to you. They care about you, even if they really suck at showing it. It might take them a while to get it right…but at least you know they're trying."

"Yeah," he mutters half-heartedly. The edge of the paper—Kitty assumes it's the offending letter—is frayed and crumbling between his fingers. She leans closer. "Hey," she says, and on an impulse pulls him into a hug. "It sucks, I know. I'm not going to pretend it doesn't. But there are people here that care about you and have your back, no matter what. Don't forget that."

Bobby returns her hug, then, his arms tightening around her. "Thanks," he murmurs into her shoulder.

He pulls away after a minute and rises, tossing her a small smile as he leaves, letter held carefully in one hand. Kitty watches as he heads down the hallway and runs into Rogue. They exchange the tiniest of gestures—the lightest touches, the briefest glances—that look like nothing, but Kitty sees the tenderness in each one. Turning the corner, they disappear from view.

Kitty thinks to the future again without meaning to: Bobby's future, Rogue's future, her own future. The uncertainty looms over her again. Turning back to her work, she brushes it away and refocuses.


The Professor asks Kitty to build a website for the school. He has Scott purchase a domain name and then hands the reigns over to her, with a just one preliminary requirement: she can't mention anything about mutants.

"In this day and age, it appears suspicious not to have a website," the Professor observes, "But in order to continue to protect the students, we must maintain our façade of normalcy." He slides a few brochures over to her along with a handwritten list of points, but Kitty hardly pays attention. Her brow is furrowed with the weight of her thoughts. She hates that they hate to do this, that they have to hide. She understands the need to hide the X-Men—you don't want your enemies knowing the location of your mutant vigilante team headquarters—but it's innocent kids that they have to hide, too. They shouldn't have to.

She doesn't want to live in this kind of world forever. The Professor is working so hard to try to change this, but all the odds just seem to be stacked against them, and Kitty's starting to feel a little weary, wearier than she has the right to feel. She hasn't earned it yet.

The Professor levels his gaze with hers as if he knows just what she is thinking. For the thousandth time, Kitty wonders how much bearing his mutation has on his perceptive nature. He doesn't even need to say anything.


Logan leads the Danger Room session one day. He's in the middle of pairing people up ("Storm and Colossus…Iceman, with Cyclops...") when he gets to Kitty and stops short.

"We gotta get you a codename, kid," he says.

"You mean 'kid' isn't my codename?" Kitty responds wryly.

"Careful, kid," Logan warns, "if you don't want it to stick." He surveys the room authoritatively and grunts, "Half Pint and Rogue, you're with me. And no more lip from you," he adds, pointing a finger at Kitty in a way that reminds her hilariously of an old southern grandma. She hides her face so he won't see her laughter.

Later, lounging in the rec room with some of the others, she asks for suggestions. Predictably, she is bestowed with a mix of insults and ridiculous jokes. Artie, locked in a ferocious game of foosball with Jason, shouts, "Kasper the Mostly Friendly Ghost," and then crows with glee as he scores. Kitty rolls her eyes and instantly regrets asking.

"Mostly Super Woman," Jubilee pipes up. Theresa and Stevie, on the couch next to her, seize hold of this train of thought, giggling. "Pretty Good Woman," Theresa proposes. Stevie snorts and adds, "Generally Okay Woman."

The room fills with laughter. Kitty sighs. "Guys, I'm serious."

"Ghost," reiterates Artie. "It's a cool name."

"Kasper was spot on," Jubilee agrees, smirking.

"Peeves," Bobby suggests cheekily.

Kitty turns to him. "Seriously? A Harry Potter reference?"

"Why not?" He grins. "This place is basically Hogwarts."

Beside him, Rogue considers this for a minute before nodding in comprehension. She catches Kitty's eye and they exchange a secretive smile; they've found common ground recently in making fun of Bobby.

"Peeves is the resident trickster," Jubilee points out, "so if anyone here is Peeves, it would be you, Popsicle."

"Hang on, why isn't your codename Popsicle?" Jason wonders.

Kitty shakes her head at all of them, amused but fed up with their antics. "Never mind. I'll think of something myself."

For her, a codename holds significance that she suspects not all of them understand. It makes everything more official, somehow; it's something she feels she has to consider carefully.

She knows it was a joke, mostly, but she likes the idea of a ghost: silent as a shadow, unseen, unhindered by boundaries. Something that lives on its own terms.


Kitty works diligently on the website: Scott says it will be her final project for his class because he doesn't have anything else to give her. Piotr sits next to her in the computer lab, helping her out, in what seems to be a form of insurance on the Professor's part. She feels a bit like a kid with a babysitter. On the other hand, she's happy for the excuse to spend some time with Piotr: they've grown apart a little recently, and it's adding to Kitty's fear of the way things might go, all of her friends and the professors growing apart from each other, heading their separate ways. Being around him eases her anxiety.

She also just appreciates the input and second opinions. Writing about the mansion without mentioning mutants is a challenge, and the project is beginning to feel more like a creative writing assignment than anything. With the two of them bouncing ideas off of each other, it becomes a little easier.

They go around scouting out innocent activities to take photos of for the website. Kitty knows Pete isn't a photographer, but he has that artistic perception that shows him just the right angle and lighting to capture the perfect shot. What's really hard about the task is finding a moment where no one is showcasing a mutation. It's a bit like shooting a nature documentary: they have to wait patiently for that elusive occurrence.

When they finish the website, they don't drift apart again, and this reassures Kitty more than anything.


From her bed, Kitty stares out into another sleepless night. She's not an insomniac or anything, but sometimes her mind seizes hold of something and she can't stop thinking about it. The worry is still there, bright and persistent.

She rolls out of bed and creeps silently downstairs. Jones is watching something on TV, as he often does. He doesn't look up as she wanders in and sinks down onto the couch beside him, so she takes that as an invitation to stay.

He's watching what appears to be a documentary on World War I. Jones has strange taste for a kid his age; maybe years of sleepless nights aged him twice as fast. Kitty draws her knees up to her chest and looks over at him. "Do you ever get bored at night?" she asks offhandedly, biting her lip and watching the screen and not really thinking about it.

"Believe it or not," Jones answers, deadpan, eyes trained on the documentary, "usually there's at least one person who can't sleep."

Kitty thinks of Bobby's late night ice cream habit, and Logan's nightmares, and Rogue's easily disturbed sleep. "True."

"So what's your excuse?"

Kitty bites her lip harder. "Worrying about the future," she admits.

"You can't control everything, you know."

Something about his tone annoys her a little, and she folds her arms around her knees. "I know that."

"Your present determines your future, so if I were you, I would focus on it instead." Jones shrugs. "That's all the advice I have. Now either be quiet and watch, or go back upstairs."

Kitty stays for the end of the World War II documentary and the beginning of an exposé on the food system before leaving. She falls asleep eventually, though it's on her mind, still. Everything changes so fast: her old life was gone in an instant, replaced in a matter of hours. Who says the same couldn't happen again?

She'll hold on to it with everything she has, though. This time, it's worth holding on to.


Scott clears his throat amid the rustling of papers and regular jabber. "Guys," he says, and when the noise doesn't stop, he repeats it more loudly. "Guys."

The conversations disperse layer by layer until the X-Men each face him quietly. In the background, Professor Xavier watches intently, silently, like a scholarly ninja. Kitty's learned that he's more of a benevolent overseer: Scott's the real team leader.

"First item of business," he says, all professional. "I've been talking to Ororo and Professor Xavier and we all agree," the three of them exchange nods, "that it's time we taught some of our younger members to fly the jet. So if anyone is interested, let me know and we'll start arranging a special training program."

Kitty notices how Rogue's gaze falls down to her hands. She also sees the way Bobby touches Rogue's shoulder lightly before raising his other hand to volunteer. "I'd like to learn," he says.

"Great." Scott makes a note.

"First cars, now jets," Logan grunts. "Next it'll be your bike, Scooter."

"Not going to happen," Scott mutters back. He finishes his note and looks across at the others. "Rogue, Piotr, Kitty, are any of you guys interested?"

"I can't even drive yet," Kitty says in confusion.

"Perhaps later on, then," Storm acquiesces, sharing an amused smile with the Professor. "Rogue? Piotr?"

Piotr hesitates, looking a little queasy, but Rogue lifts a timid hand. "I will," she says bravely, her voice strong, not wavering even once.

Kitty hears this, and sees the shakiness of her raised hand, and thinks of their conversation earlier, at dinner that one day. She remembers what Rogue said about how it felt good to be ready for the next time. She'd said it with conviction, and here's proof, here are the steps she is taking. And Kitty knows now that this is what she will do, too. She'll take on the future step by step, preparing herself by increments, and she'll see where it takes her. That's all any of them can really do.