A/N: I'm back! Sorry it's been so long. I hope there are still some readers out there. This chapter was hard, but I think the next ones will be easier.

Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men.


The next day Logan is gone. No one is surprised, and no one pretends they are; everyone had been expecting him to take off, as always. Now they just wait for him to come back, and never give voice to their fears that maybe he won't. Rogue is still missing and Kitty thinks maybe her absence from the mansion made it even easier for Logan to leave this time. She wonders if he would have stayed for Rogue. Then again, maybe not. She isn't sure he'll ever stop running.


Kitty's at a loss, that first morning. She wakes automatically, blinking at the sunlight from a tangled mess of sheets, mouth dry and body aching. The heavy quiet around her weaves through her head, a dull throb behind her eyes.

It's early still. She rises on autopilot, phasing her sore limbs through the twisted bedcovers.

Light filters in patches through the window—Kitty notices it needs cleaning. How long has it been?

In the bathroom, she brushes her teeth attentively, studying herself in the mirror. Her reflected face is expressionless, untouched. Not a scratch.

The familiarity of her routine pulls her downstairs to an empty kitchen. It's strange—she's hardly ever seen the room so deserted. She peels a banana and slices it into her bowl of cereal absently. The accidental clang of knife against bowl is loud as a gunshot in the early morning stillness. The noise makes Kitty jump before she resumes her task, moving as slowly as possible. She wants to see a familiar face, a sign of life, something.

Pulling out a chair with her foot, Kitty resigns herself and settles down to eat her breakfast alone. A few stray slices of banana linger in the thin layer of milk at the bottom of the bowl until she tops it off again. Her appetite is voracious this morning. Thinking back to yesterday, she remembers skipping dinner entirely. This detail comes back to her from a distance, from behind a cloudy film.

Bobby tramps down the stairs then, in a hurry, pulling his jacket on as he goes. He looks up briefly when he passes the kitchen and nods to her. There's an energy bar clamped between his teeth.

Kitty lowers her spoon. "Where are you going?" she asks.

Finally getting the jacket on, he removes the granola bar, antsy. He's nearly running in place. "Looking for Rogue," he answers shortly, and then he's gone.

Kitty bends her head over her bowl and waits, one moment, two moments, but it's too late. The kitchen is a desert now without the person she'd been hoping would join her. She'd like it if anyone else came—Piotr, Jubilee, even Jason or Artie if she's desperate enough—but it's Bobby, her best friend, she most wants to keep her company. All those midnight snacks, post-training hangouts, late night conversations: it's always been him there.

She shakes her head and carries her cereal bowl over to the TV, where she finishes the milk in the bottom with painstaking slowness and watches the news, those same images over and over. Disease outbreaks, mass shootings, political protests and straight-faced politicians. Reports on 'The Mutant Attack on Alcatraz' flood in, though the only video footage sweeps through the aftermath, cataloguing the destruction. The news team talks to a small group of soldiers, the few who made it out. They skirt around the questions with practiced ambiguity. Kitty holds her breath for a mention of her name, but it never comes.

Students start to drift downstairs. Classes were canceled for the day, though Kitty can't recall any announcement being made: it may have just been something she assumed, everyone assumed. Theresa sits beside her and watches for a few minutes; she's soon replaced by Elena, then by Sam. They don't say anything. They don't have to.


Kitty washes her bowl by hand, slowly and methodically. She thinks about Bobby, about Rogue, about Logan, everyone living under this roof with her and everyone who doesn't anymore. She thinks about Magneto and Mystique and the cure; and then about John, whether or not he survived. She thinks about Storm, the burdens she'll now have to shoulder alone.

Somewhere in the midst of these thoughts Kitty starts feeling so useless. What is she doing here, squandering the whole morning watching TV, taking ten minutes to wash a cereal bowl? What a profound waste of time all of this is. She has classes today but Piotr, who's taken over her spot on the couch, had agreed with her to stay at the mansion today. Now Kitty's thinking it was stupid of her. Stay here and do what, exactly?

In the end she grabs her textbooks and notes, intent on accomplishing something. But when she opens her notebook every carefully copied paragraph coalesces into a different image and her mind follows, wandering through them. Her books are clear and straightforward but the pictures that adorn their pages tell her a different story. She just can't seem to focus.

She flits from the library to her room, from the computer lab to an empty classroom, even climbing a tree at one point—sometimes she likes to be up at such a high vantage point, removed from the world below her—but the space around her never feels right. She's always been able to work anywhere, but maybe it's because today she knows where she really wants to be.

Eventually Kitty gives in and makes her way through the walls, down the sloping hallway. The tiny, sparse room at the end is exactly as it was just days ago, down to the papers left strewn about the desk, down to the dust bunny in the corner. Kitty doesn't have the heart to touch the desk, so she settles onto the floor. And it isn't comfortable by any means but it feels safe and familiar. It still feels like him.

Within minutes, she's lost in her work.


When Kitty looks up again, she isn't sure how much time has passed. Before her lies a stack of completed assignments; she reaches out languidly to straighten the pile, flip a textbook closed. Her cramped legs tell her she's been here for hours. One by one, she stretches them.

Walking into this room felt like submerging in a warm pool; the feeling still cloaks her. Kitty takes her time packing up her things, savoring that sense of comfort. She can feel it falling behind with each step away she takes.

But her feet don't take her to the kitchen, to the main floor, where she'd intended to go. Instead they turn away from the faint touch of voices, leading her down, down, down to the industrial brightness of the subbasement. Like a ghost she floats through the white hallways towards the Danger Room. Kitty knows she isn't supposed to run simulations alone—it's a part of the debriefing all the junior team members received—but she's pretty sure she can figure out how to wipe the records of her visit from the room's server, so who will know?

She just wants to fight something until she's too tired. And she wants to do it alone.

After months spent watching her professors cue up simulations, Kitty manages to set one up without any trouble. Before her eyes the room changes, night sky pouring in, structures forming at the horizon, until she's the only real thing in a vast rubble-cluttered landscape. Soldiers gather in front of her and to her left and she times her approach from the shadows she's hiding in. She stills her breathing and her nervous movements and waits and calculates and waits and then she attacks.

Time stretches and blurs as Kitty fights. Her body aches, but she welcomes it, leans into it. It feels like she matters—like something she's done has made a difference. And for some reason she's fiercer now than she's been before, fiercer alone than in training with the team, fiercer even than she was at Alcatraz. And she doesn't stop to wonder why. It's just her, and she doesn't need to.

And when she begins to tire and the amorphous soldiers overwhelm her, she just calls out a command and watches it all dissolve around her.


Kitty heads back to the kitchen later, clean and damp-haired and clad in sweatpants. Dinner is over, the room vacated; she locates the leftovers packed away in the fridge and pulls some out to reheat. Eating is a lonely affair. She made herself invisible today and it worked, it worked too well. It's never left her and maybe it never will.

She lingers, again—washes her dishes quickly this time, but makes a cup of tea and sips at it with deliberate slowness. The mug is warm beneath her hands, and Kitty dips her head to inhale rising steam. She can hear the TV from the other room changing channels rapidly—probably Jones. She considers going in there to talk to him but he'll only roll his eyes at her, patronize her or something. No, it isn't him she wants to talk to.

The tea grows bitter, teabag forgotten. Kitty ignores the sharpness prickling through her mouth and lets her mind wander. She's losing track of the time when Storm walks in and for some reason, she shoots up in her chair to sit at attention. "Oh, Kitty," Storm says, and Kitty is struck by the weariness in her face.

"Is Bobby back?" she blurts. The selfishness behind her question hits her a second later, and she flushes as Storm nods.

"Did he find Rogue?"

A shake of the head this time. Kitty bites her lip, taps her fingers against the table, looks down. She feels distinctly uncomfortable in a way she hasn't since she was new here, standing before her imposing new professors with no idea what to say to them. She knows she should ask after Storm, say something to her, anything, but all the words she tests in her head seem useless, stupid, inadequate. She's mired in silence.

When she looks up, Storm is scanning the kitchen distractedly. "Since you're here, Kitty," she says, speaking as if her words are coming to her from a distance, "we're having a meeting tomorrow. Nine a.m., my office."

Kitty opens her mouth to ask what about, then closes it as soon as she realizes what a dumb question that is. "Okay," she answers, and it seems that the instant the word leaves her mouth her leader has already drifted away.

Kitty stays in the kitchen for at least another hour, but no one else comes.


That night, huddled in her bed, she cries, because everything's changed and she doesn't know what it will look like in the morning.


She rises just as early, the same thing all over again: phases out of bed, brushes her teeth, dresses, clinging to that familiar routine. In the kitchen she reaches for the same bowl, the same breakfast, the same spot at the same table. Bobby rushes downstairs at nearly the same time, and as he's heading for the door, Kitty calls out to him, just as she did yesterday.

"Bobby—" she hesitates. "We're supposed to have a meeting at nine."

He barely glances at her. "I'll be back by then," he says, and she watches him turn and leave. It's already eight.

And it's only eight, and she scans the kitchen, legs curled up underneath her. She remembers the invisibility she conjured yesterday, the time she wasted and the time she stole for herself, and she gets up and washes her bowl and walks through the door outside into the gardens.

The sun that shone so pervasively yesterday has sunken into cloud cover, but it's still a beautiful day. Everything is green, plants poised to bloom, and Kitty remembers that night with Bobby, how magical everything seemed in that special tinge of moonlight. Today, with Jean dead and Logan gone and Bobby who's hardly even looked at her, that night feels like a lifetime ago.

She finds herself standing before the fountain. The water is cool to the touch, reminding her of the crisp chill that rose from its icy veneer. Thawed water lilies glide lazily across the surface; Kitty reaches over to touch one gently, sending it floating in a new direction. From the corner of her eye, she notices movement somewhere to her left.

She's not alone out here. A figure emerges from the hedges, a large, blue figure. Dr. McCoy makes his way deliberately over to her, his vibrant fur striking against the greenery. "Katherine Pryde," he says. "We know each other, of course, but I don't think we've been officially introduced. Dr. Hank McCoy."

She shakes his hand. "Nice to officially meet you."

"Charles mentioned you on occasion," he says. "He was fond of you."

And suddenly Kitty's aware that she's blinking back tears (again, frustratingly; she really has to stop crying all the time) and Dr. McCoy is changing the subject, something about the weather. She just nods in response, swiping angrily at her eyes.

He says something else, something about the garden this time, but Kitty finds herself changing the subject back. "How long did you know him?"

Dr. McCoy blinks at her, surprised. "Charles? Years. I was his student once, believe it or not." His gaze is observant, attentive, something Kitty realizes she likes about him. "He told me you quite enjoy discussing ethics and philosophy."

"Yeah," Kitty replies. Her voice is coarse with unshed tears; she swallows them back. "Yeah. We used to have discussions sometimes."

"It's difficult losing someone who played so many roles, isn't it," Dr. McCoy says pensively, as if to himself. He clears his throat and glances down at a watch clasped around a furry blue wrist. "I believe Ororo is holding a meeting in a few minutes. Shall we?"

They walk in silence, but it's more comfortable than Kitty expects.


Bobby never shows up. Storm waits one minute, two minutes, while Piotr and Dr. McCoy settle into chairs and Kitty hangs around nervously. It's jarring seeing so few of them there. Kitty hates how the evidence has been laid out before her, showing her just how severely their numbers have been reduced.

Before long, Storm grows impatient. There's a list on her desk, what looks like thirty extremely thorough bullet points, and she picks it up to begin the meeting before laying it back down again. "Piotr, Kitty," she says, "…Bobby…you're still junior X-Men, for now at least, and I don't want to have to ask this of you. But I'm running out of options." She focuses them both with her steady gaze, and Kitty feels Bobby's absence keenly. "I'm going to need your help with some administrative tasks, to keep the school running until I can replace—until I can hire new staff." Storm's hands lay flat on the desk, her posture calm and composed. "Are you both willing to assist?"

Pete and Kitty both nod mutely.

Storm echoes their nods with one of her own, picks the list back up, and proceeds to go through the items one by one. Staffing, paperwork, budgeting…by the fifth item, Kitty's gaining a new understanding of the other role the X-Men have to play. There's so much to take care of that she's never given thought to before. The daunting task of running a school—and a boarding school, no less—is starting to loom in front of her now that it's become her burden as well.

Tasks are delegated with considerable efficiency as Storm moves down the list. Kitty's assignment is to take a look at the Danger Room programming, to see if she can fix some bugs, maybe even write a few new programs. She feels a little better after being allocated this particular chore, especially compared to the other options: paperwork for Dr. McCoy; help wanted ads for Piotr; budget and expenses for Bobby, who isn't even here to protest; and some of everything for Storm herself. The list is down to the last few items when there's a knock on the door.

"Yes?" Storm says, a little testily, and Warren cracks the door open. He looks around nervously at the gathered X-Men, which makes Kitty smile slightly because there's only four of them.

"I just wanted to know if I could help." Warren's voice is quiet, but there's strength hidden in it.

Storm frowns. "You only arrived yesterday," she reminds him, "and frankly I wasn't even sure you'd be staying, given everything that's happened since."

"I know." He shrugs. "But it looks like you could use all the help you can get. And if this really is a safe place for mutants, for people like me, then helping it stay open seems like the most important thing I could be doing right now."

Storm stares at him for a long time. Kitty half expects Dr. McCoy to speak up, but he seems to be respectfully deferring to the school's new leader. "All right," she says at last. "Take a seat. But just so we're clear, you're a guest here and you will do exactly as I say."

"We're clear," Warren agrees. Glancing around awkwardly, he sits between Piotr and Kitty and studiously avoids looking at either of them. Kitty wonders just how uncomfortable he is.

Clearing her throat, Storm jumps right back in. "So we agree to resume training as soon as possible—with a reduced schedule, of course." She consults her notes. "Hank and Piotr will run the younger students' self defense class, once or twice a week to start. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

"Now," Storm continues, "I've been giving a lot of thought to…to how to continue ongoing classes. I'm aware this is unethical, but I don't know how we could possibly resume classes with so many—with so many teachers missing. We may need to…" she looks uneasily over at Dr. McCoy. "We may need to falsify some paperwork."

Everyone frowns, and Dr. McCoy even makes a noise of protest, but Storm fixes them all with a fierce look that suggests she'd been expecting this reaction. "There are still a few weeks of classes left, material that hasn't been covered that is on the exams, exams that haven't been written, for that matter—what do you expect me to do? Teach all these subjects myself, even those I hardly know anything about?"

"You have help, Ororo," Dr. McCoy argues, indicating Kitty, Warren, and Piotr.

"They're going to be stretched thin as it is," Storm responds. "And I can hardly ask students to teach the remainder of classes—especially those they are enrolled in."

Pete joins in the argument, siding with Dr. McCoy, and even Warren speaks up, but Kitty stays silent. She doesn't like it any more than they do, but she thinks Storm is right. They're running out of options.

And it hurts, having to think practically in the face of everyone they've lost. She isn't ready.

"I'm sure we can reach some sort of compromise," Dr. McCoy is reasoning. "Perhaps make the remaining lesson plans available to the students, and assign them alternate assessments?"

"You could call in substitute teachers," Warren suggests.

Storm purses her lips, then furiously scribbles something onto a scrap of paper. "Warren, see if you can find some substitutes," she directs, handing him the paper. "These are the subjects we need teachers for. If not…we'll discuss other options."

Kitty can clearly see that one more item still remains at the very bottom of the list, but Storm merely circles it lightly and calls the meeting over.


Leaving Storm's office, Kitty is thinking about all the times during the meeting when Bobby might've made a joke, or Logan might have cracked a sarcastic comment; how Scott would have brought them back to order while the Professor, amused, watched from behind his desk. She has to shake herself out of her reverie and stop in the hallway for a moment, watching Piotr and Warren head downstairs, testing the waters with tentative conversation. Dr. McCoy hung back to talk with Storm, so Kitty's alone. For the hundredth time she wishes that Bobby were by her side, then immediately after wishes she weren't so selfish.

She heads straight for the Danger Room's control center, hoping to occupy herself with work. The system takes some time to figure out, but before too long Kitty's getting the hang of it. She's so absorbed in her task that she almost doesn't notice Dr. McCoy appear. For such a large presence, he's surprisingly light on his feet.

He leans over her shoulder to look at the code she's debugging and starts asking her questions about her process. In a matter of minutes they're sitting side by side and working on the project together. When they finish that first simulation, they don't start another, instead falling into easy conversation, casual debate. And for the moment, Kitty feels just a tiny bit less lonely.