Author's Notes: Thank you ever so to everyone who has reviewed! I cannot express my glee coherently enough, seriously, you've all made my night. In this chapter we finally reach Xavier's fantabulous institute and madness abounds! Well, sort of. Some introductions are made, hopefully I'll have done a plausible job of keeping them down to character. Tune in next time for more intros and a game of verbal bitch slap. Feedback is appreciated! Thanks and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I still don't own anything except for Adrian; how poorly I must seem. All rights go to Marvel/FOX. I'm making nothing from this in a monetary sense, so go team.

"You toss in a word,
I'm your villain.
I see the passion emerge,
I'm your villain.
But serious,
You're so serious,
Like a waiter
Hating the rich
But taking their tips."
-Franz Ferdinand, 'I'm Your Villain'

Chapter 5- 'Automatic Stop'

I awaken during the early hours of the morning, hazy blue fading into a rosy, peach hue that seems to echo in the silence of the world. I move to rise; muscles grumbling irritably at me from having maintained my crouched position so long, yet, the hand on my shoulder stops me. Lifting my head slightly, I gaze upward at the man sleeping next to me, head leaning peacefully against his seat. I'm startled by just how young he looks, almost vulnerable in the soft light pouring in through the windows. He's changed his clothes I realize, thankful to have as little as possible of the last evening in my present view. I'd rather cut my own foot off and eat it if I have to look forward to that bullshit the rest of my live-long days. My movement seems to have startled him though, small as it was, and his eyes snap open. He removes his hand quickly, almost as if I'd burned him, and cracks his neck. Annoyed by the loss of this small comfort, I sit up, wincing at my broken ribs. "Morning, Logan."

He grunts a noncommittal response and starts the engine, letting it warm up for a few moments before we start driving again. I sigh, pulling my headphones out of my backpack. The way this day is going I doubt we'll be talking much, if at all. He's in one of those moods again. I'd gander to say that he's just about as temperamental as a fifteen year old boy at this point, swimming in and out of indifference and hostility like he's just discovered puberty and emo, sans the crying. But honestly, what's the reason to get so uppity with me? I'm practically gimp at this stage in the game, for fuck's sake, like there's anything I could do to hurt a man with claws that spring out of his goddamn hands. Even without the healing rate he's a formidable opponent, and I can't even throw a punch. What a motley pair we are.

"Logan?" I'm not really interested in waking the proverbial beast at the moment, but I've got about twenty thousand questions bouncing off the inside of my skull and last night's shenanigans got them breeding like rabbits. I'll take my chances. "Where did you get the claws?"

Oh, nice one. If he was sullen before he's full-on brooding now. Go fucking team. A few minutes of tense silence pass before he gives me any sort of response, his tone even and low, a hint of weariness washing up to the surface. "Weapon X."

It's short and sweet, conveying everything, though this early in the morning my mouth moves faster than the slow churnings of my brain and I blurt out an unseemly "What?"

"It was an experiment, a government program trying to create super soldiers," he pauses for a moment and I'm certain he's going to snap at me. I'm obviously on thin ice here, we're not talking about the normal, day-to-day fucked up things that happen to people. Something of this caliber outranks that instantaneously. I shiver, the knowledge that Logan, the tough badass that he is, was taken into the labs. For god's sake, the man was like a bear, if they could get him who wasn't outside their limitations? I backpedal.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything, I was just-"

He shakes his head. "Don't worry about it. It ain't often someone doesn't ask about them the first time they see 'em."

"Well, they're not exactly common place," I agree, feeling some of the tension slipping away. I know better than to push this envelope and I move onto another subject. "So, what's up with this place in Westchester? Is it an actual school or is it just some sort of a safe house?"

"It's a school," he supplies, turning onto another road. I light up a post-dawn cigarette and take a drag.

"So what are you then, a teacher? Or do you just recruit?" I can't help but grin at the idea of Logan up in front of a classroom filled with children, trying to explain American politics or Joycian literature.

He half shrugs. "Don't really know yet, it's been a while since I've been out there."

Blowing out a smoke ring, I raise an eyebrow, suspicion churning in the murky waters of my mind. "I don't understand. Why'd you come pick my lame ass up if you're not even working there?"

"Chuck- er, the Professor's a really powerful telepath. I was out driving through Montana, taking the long way back from Canada when he contacted me, said he needed me to get someone for him."

His demeanor remained the same, though his tone became somewhat wry at the end, as if he were now amused with the Professor's notion. I couldn't really blame him, noting the way things had turned out thus far, and my wariness subsided. "So are you going to stick around after you drop me off?" I'm not terribly fond of the idea of him clearing out and leaving me with an entire school full of strange people, but I know that far worse could have happened had I never met him, so I'm willing to accept the situation, should it come to pass.

"Christ kid, its half past six in the morning and you're already going on like a goddamn wind-up toy," he grumbles exasperatedly.

"Feed me and I promise you'll get at least ten minutes of quiet while I'm shoving food down my gullet," I offer, hunger pangs making themselves known with low growls and groans. I have the grace to look sheepish as he smirks, driving along until we hit another town.

Breakfast is uneventful, my promise of silence withstanding for all but two minutes when I come back from the bathroom, having cleaned myself up a bit. The bruises around my neck are now so hideously apparent I've taken to wearing a knitted scarf, tiring of the stares I've had sent my way. Mind you, it's long since winter subsided, and the temperatures in our current area, sand having been traded for grassy pastures sometime during the night, are far from freezing.

"I feel like a misplaced snowman," I mutter, taking a sip of my water. "Or a scene kid. Fuck, that's even worse." Logan just snorts at my dilemma and pays the bill. Smarmy bastard and his mutation. He goes to use the restroom one last time and I plaster a smile on my face, mischief laying claim over the better judgments of my brain. Staring aimlessly at a quarter machine beside the exit, I concentrate on that gentle pull and focus within my mind. When Logan comes stalking out a minute later, face dripping with faucet water, I try my best to appear innocuous, and fail miserably. I'm practically seizuring with suppressed giggles as he hauls me outside. "Hysterical," he snarls, depositing me into my seat.

Apparently, in my sleep deprived state, it is, and I spend the next few minutes cackling away to myself while Logan all but snaps his teeth at me. For his sake I finally quiet, apologizing. "You still had a bit of dirt on your cheek from last night, at least it's gone now," I try.

"You're going to fit right in with those geeks at Xavier's place," he shakes his head, face now dry. After a minute he rolls his eyes. "The Professor."

"Oh!" Realization lighting up my face. "Sorry, still digesting." As if that's an excuse. Noting that I've effectively annoyed the living piss out of my companion, I attempt to tone it down a bit, humming a rather lively tune. At this point most of his irritation with me seems feigned, the gusto behind it fading into a charade with which to banter. We talk for a while, my aimless questions prompting some response or other, all varying in length and seriousness. It's comfortable, our voices thrusting and parrying or swimming gently against the humming currents of the vehicle bearing us forward. The sun continues on its journey westward and my chatter dies down, the symbiosis between the two explained by heavy eyelids, the little bit of sleep I did manage to get finally failing me. I fall asleep again, as I seem to do so often on this long drive, and awaken again sometime after nightfall. We grab a bite to eat at another nameless diner and pull off for the night after a few more hours on the road. Rinse, wash and repeat for another two blessedly uneventful days and there we are, driving through upstate New York, past all the stately homes and small towns until we reach that final gate.

I'm swallowing down my nerves like the breakfast I should have eaten this morning, trying to reel in the runaway train that is my heartbeat. After four long days on the road and nearly an entire pack of cigarettes smoked anxiously at the awareness of our impending destination, we've finally made it, the small sign reading "Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters" revealing this, despite my surprise. We've made good time, I know, especially for the condition of our vehicle, so when the gate opens I almost have to wonder if it's all real. And when Logan parks in the garage, driving up that vast, winding driveway, I pinch myself to be sure that I'm awake. I climb out of the truck slowly, almost vulnerable outside its close quarters, and gaze at all the numerous, immaculate automobiles with my mouth hanging open.

"You catchin' flies, kid?" Logan smirks at my state and I quickly straighten up, smoothing out my clothes as best as I'm able. I feel so out of place in something so grand as this in only the typical tee shirt and jeans ensemble, self-conscious even, but it's the best I can do at the moment and boy, don't I know it. We walk out of the garage and I quicken my pace, trying to stay as close to Logan as possible in this foreign environment. To call me nervous would be the understatement of the century, I'm so tense I jump at the sight of the first people in the foyer, a pretty girl no older than myself and a young man the same age, the former of which calls out to Logan and runs forward, embracing him happily. Awkward and momentarily on the back-burner, I try and discern their relationship, realizing again just how little I truly know about my Knight in Denim Armor. The boy steps forward and introductions between them are made, he saunters up in a way that screams "prep-school" and I restrain the urge to glare at him. Boy that he is, I can see him trying to make his territories known and it's obvious there's a pissing contest to be had. "Hilarious," I murmur, earning the attentions of the girl. She's quite striking, I realize, two locks of sheer white framing her youthful face. "Logan, did ya' bring a friend?"

Suddenly there's three pairs of eyes on me, blue, brown and hazel respectively and I fidget. "She's a new student, Chuck had me bring her in from California," Logan explains by way of a thumb over his shoulder.

I observe rather detachedly that my legs seem to have been glued to the hardwood floors while my attention was averted elsewhere, as I feel unable to move in my present state. "Er," I manage tastefully.

Much to my surprise the boy introduces himself first and I try to keep the displeasure from my face, banking on a grace that seems to have vacated my person upon our arrival. "I'm Bobby Drake, and this is Rogue," he motions to his girlfriend, both of which are currently before me. He extends a hand and I regard it for a moment, recalling his actions toward Logan previously. With a grin I shake it, my grip strong enough to warrant a blink of surprise. I nod to the girl. "Adrian Mills." I feel like I'm introducing myself on a fucking television show, this all seems so unreal.

"Ah suppose ya'll be wantin' to see the Professor," Rogue says, southern accent becoming apparent with a quiet flare. Taking my arm with a small smile, she leads me out of the entry-way. "Bobby and Ah can show ya' to his office. It was good to see ya' again Logan, we'll catch up later!"

With the dynamic duo all but dragging me down the hall I look back over to Logan, "over-whelmed" written all over my face. He sends a soft smile our way and I feel my anxiousness lessen, understanding its related comforts. Focusing my eyes ahead, I shift the weight of my backpack and continue onward, Bobby taking this time to play twenty questions with the fresh meat.

"So, Adrian," he fixes me with a peppy, friendly smile and I try to restrain myself from asking his prescription. "What part of California are you from? I have relatives in San Francisco."

"Los Angeles," I reply, eyeing the sumptuous décor of the hallways we pass through, the high ceilings and the wood paneling on the walls. This is, quite easily, the most beautiful home I've ever been in, and I almost have a hard time believing it to be a school. As if on cue a small group of children race by, giggling to one another and, shaking myself, I realize Bobby's just asked me another question.

"Pardon?" Suddenly Logan and I aren't the only two mutants in the world anymore and it's taking a bit for me to come to grips with it. I don't know what these two can do, the girl to my left clad in opera gloves while the boy on my right repeats himself, but I can feel their assurance and my lack of control suddenly seems obvious.

"I asked if it was a long drive."

I chuckle slightly, biting back the Insta-Logan reply that tries to claw it's way out of my throat. "A bit, yeah." It's well over three thousand miles, if that isn't a fucking long drive I'm the bloody Tooth Fairy. We arrive at a large door and, as Rogue raises one delicately gloved hand to knock, a voice behind us stops her in mid-action.

"The Professor's in a meeting, can I help you three?" An attractive, slender woman meets my gaze as we turn, smiling politely. I take note of the long, flowing red hair she has perched high atop her head and wait for one of the others to speak.

"Dr. Grey, this is Adrian, she's lookin' to get settled," Rogue supplies much to my relief, as I have the sudden understanding that if Bobby speaks again I'm likely to swat him as I would punishing a hyperactive terrier. "She's come all the way from Los Angeles."

"Ah, yes, the Professor mentioned we'd be seeing you soon."

Dr. Grey, the woman standing before us, has quite possibly one of the most calming demeanors I've ever found myself at the grace of beholding. My nerves almost seem to melt in their tension and I manage a small nod in her direction. After my near-panic attacks this morning, her presence is a welcome one. "Logan mentioned that this was a school, what would I have to do to become enrolled?"

"We'll take care of all that later with the Professor, why don't you and Rogue go and get you comfortable. I take it there's still a bed free in your room?" The doctor looks to Rogue and she confirms. "Excellent. The Professor will contact you when he's available, I'm sure these two would be quite happy to show you around for the time being." She extends a fine-boned hand to me. "It's a pleasure to have you here, Adrian, let us know if you need anything."

And I thought I was over-whelmed before. "Th-thank you, doctor," I manage, taking her hand and shaking it, though with a far more gentle grip than the one I previously gave Bobby. She continues on her way down the hall and the latter makes an excuse to go off for a bit, telling us he'll come and check up on us in a little while. I sigh deeply as he too departs and Rogue and I set off up a rather majestic looking staircase at the end of the hall.

"Sorry, ya'll have to forgive his excitement, he's really a good guy," Rogue offers when we reach the top, continuing down another hallway.

"Oh, it's all right. Sorry, I'm just a bit out of sorts, I've- well, this is all pretty new to me still," I reply, giving her a small smile. She's a nice girl, someone I might be able to become friendly with, so long as her goddamn boyfriend tones it down a bit. At this rate I'm tempted to give him perpetually cold showers just to shut him up. "So, um, what's your mutation?"

She smiles grimly. "Mah skin. If ah touch people Ah absorb them, their powers, their memories, their life force. It's a little alienating," she finishes, observing me.

"Goddamn, that's pretty hardcore," I comment, my grasp on my vocabulary still eluding me despite my best efforts. When she sees that I haven't flinched away from her or gone running for the hills she turns the question back on me.

"What about you?"

I chuckle. "I can sense and manipulate water, though I have a pretty shitty grasp of it at the moment. I was so nervous about coming here earlier that accidentally caused a whole row of toilets to overflow themselves when Logan and I took a brief reprieve at a rest stop in the Catskills."

We arrive at a door and she laughs, opening it to reveal a large room with four desks, dressers and single beds. "Well, here they can teach ya to control your gift, which is reassuring for the plumbing, ah'm sure."

"Of course," I grin, recalling Dr. Grey's words earlier. "So, you have two other girls who stay here with you? This hardly looks like a co-ed sort of dorm."

Rogue snorts. "Were the other two here they'd probably have wet themselves for the opportunity. Kitty and Jubilee are in Professor Munro's class right now, they should be back in a half an hour or so. Ya wanna unpack and go look around?"

"Sure. Actually, I can unpack later; all that driving made me sort of stir-crazy." I stretch carefully, grimacing at the momentary, sharp pain it brings. Rogue, observant creature that she is, takes note of this.

"Did ya hurt yourself?"

I bite my cheek a moment, thinking of how I'm supposed to conversationally reveal that I was kicked to shit by some whack job in a back alley. "I got into a bit of a fix back in LA, though Logan came to my rescue. He's a good man, I owe him a lot."

"Like your life?" There's a knowing smile that plays upon her lips, and suddenly I realize that we might have more in common than I'd originally anticipated.

"Yeah, actually. How did you-"

"He saved mine too, brought me here and everything. He rescued me from Magneto about a year ago, before he took off for a bit."

I frown slightly, confused. "What the fuck is a Magneto?"

She gives a wry laugh, taking my hand in her gloved one. "We'll talk about it later. Lets go get Bobby and show ya around a bit first." Accepting, I drop my stuff on the available bed, the one closest to the door, and follow her back down the hall, taking a left towards a different wing of the mansion.

"I take it this is the way I'll go if I'm sneaking about for a midnight rendezvous?" I waggle my eyebrows at the innuendo and she laughs again.

"If ya should be so inclined, yes, though Ah'd watch out; Professor Summers is a bear when he catches people creeping 'round at night." We pause in front of a door and knock. I run a hand through my hair, smoothing down the long tresses and trying to ignore the growing nerves at the pit of my stomach, vying to take control of myself and experience all of this as any normal person would, mutant or otherwise. They were all new kids too at one point or another, I rationalize with myself as the door opens, a young man standing in it's place. Ignoring Rogue he looks straight at me, dark eyes boring into my own gray-blue while flicking the top of an old Zippo open and closed. "Who the hell are you?"

I raise an eyebrow and open my mouth to reply, but Rogue beats me to it. "Is Bobby here? We were gonna show her 'round." Catching his smirk she warns, "She's new John, so back off and be nice."

He snorts. "Your boyfriend went to go hand something in to Professor Summers." Returning his attention to me, something I can say with quite a bit of certainty that I'm in no way fond of, he motions to my neck. "What's with the scarf? It's fucking April."

I'm about four broken ribs short of punching this asshole in the jaw. "I'm a bit cold, something I'm sure you'll grow to realize in the near future." There's enough venom to hint at my irritation, but nothing to make things too terribly awkward. I've only been here for an hour, I'm really not looking to make enemies, even with this punkass. Give me another day and I'll school him.

We're borderline glaring at one another, regarding each other over the doorway as he continues to flick his lighter open and closed, the rhythmic clicking managing to set a sort of abstract beat to the encounter. Rogue sighs with a note of irritation. "Christ John, can ya stop that for just a moment?" He complies, as she requested, and continues on again, our standstill brought to a sudden halt. "St. John Allerdyce, this is Adrian Mills, she just arrived."

I see the cynicism in his eyes, the unimpressed sort of amusement he observes me with and I barely manage to keep from scratching my palms, which itch to slap the look off his face. He extends a long-boned hand forward and smirks. "It's a pleasure."

Taking his hand in a grip far more sturdy than the one I gave Bobby earlier that afternoon, I give him a thin smile. "Likewise." My eyes narrow slightly as I feel the pressure of his hold intensify, meeting the unspoken challenge and raising it. It's not until Rogue clears her throat, looking pointedly at our white-knuckled hands that we pull apart.

"Ya mind if we come in? It's kinda awkward, standing 'round in the hall like this."

John moves aside, sweeping his arms inward. "Please, make yourselves at home." The sarcasm is beyond evident and Rogue rolls her eyes, walking past him. I follow suit, meeting his gaze steadily as I move to stand beside Rogue, who sits on a bed I assume belongs to Bobby. The door shuts rather audibly and John goes to stand near his own side of the dorm. It's a bit smaller than the one Rogue and I share with the other girls, the state varying depending upon which half of the room one were to observe; Bobby's is clean, not sterile, but definitely well-cared for, while John's looks to be well lived in. The epitome of, in fact. Trying not to let my gaze linger too long on the unmade bed at the opposite side of the room, my eyes find their way toward the CD rack against a nearby desk. "Who's the Radiohead fan?"

Click, pause. Click, pause. Click, pause. "I am."

Great, now we can both vie for the position of resident music snob. Good taste or not, though, this kid is obviously a Class A dick and I'll make no mistakes about it. Nodding my head a bit, I concede. "Nice choice. You missing 'The Bends' for any reason in particular?"

He shrugs in a way that intones that he can't possibly be bothered to care whether or not I'm actually attempting to be civil. My itch grows into something like athlete's foot on my palms. "It broke a while back."

Rogue appears to be watching this exchange with a bit of interest and with that knowledge I swallow the last of my judgments. Observe attempted good deed number one. "I have it if you'd like to borrow it sometime." I'm in a new school, I've barely been here an hour; I refuse to let this asshole get under my skin. Whatever his deal is, whatever issue he has towards the rest of the world is his own goddamn problem. I'm just waiting for his stupid roommate to get back so that I can go on my fucking happy little tour, have my spectacular meeting with the omnipotent Professor and then fuck off. No offense intended to Rogue, as it's not her that's got my hackles raised, but I really miss Logan's company right now, his gruff, no-bullshit assurance, and I could use a bit of time with him, not that he probably isn't rejoicing over the burden lifted from his shoulders. Oh, what a fix I'm in.

John snaps me out of my reverie with his response, the bored arrogance in his tone making me want to shove my head through the nearest wall for my previous offering. "I'll think about it."

"Don't hurt yourself on my account," I mutter, thoroughly vexed. Rogue seems to be enjoying our little bantering session, and I see an opera-gloved hand come up to cover her mouth, eyes smiling.

He smirks and I think my left eyelid starts to twitch slightly. "Wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart."

I glare up at him, up the lithe body clad in a pair of jeans and a hastily done button-up shirt. Under other, less demeaning circumstances perhaps the sentiment might have been welcome, but my eyes are practically shooting daggers and I can see the amusement he gets from this, egging me on, the easy prey. He takes a step closer. "Is your mutation annoyance?" I manage to bite out. "You're just about the single most obnoxious thing I've ever had the supreme displeasure of meeting in my entire life."

"She's a regular home-maker, Rogue, you should have her over the next time you and Popsicle Boy decide to play house," he chortles, thumbing his lighter open again. "And, for your information," he flicks the wheel with a thumb and stares at the flame for a moment before it jumps into his waiting hand, "I control fire."

"St. John, you're bein' rude!" Rogue exclaims, standing. "Can't ya just be decent until Bobby gets back and cool it?"

A small grin ghosts over my lips as I take note of a glass beside Bobby's bed, half full on a bedside table. Feeling that familiar weight within my mind, I press my will into it, watching as it begins to pour up and out of the glass. "I'm sure darling Bobby will only be a few more minutes. There's no need to get riled on my behalf, I can take care of myself."

The look on John's face conveys his apparent, mocking disagreement. That is until, of course, a hiss of steam rises and he's got a palm full of water, the flame extinguished. He curses, wiping the wet on his pant leg before glowering at me, my ante having upped the stakes past show-and-tell at this point. I've disgraced him on his own turf, in his own room, for god's sake, and I'll be damned if that isn't bound to sting a little. His ego looks like it just took a pretty decent blow and I'm feeling pretty confident with myself, my abilities honing themselves the more I utilize them. The tension in the air is palpable and I can see Rogue's now obvious discomfort out of the corner of my eye. The poor thing is probably wondering if it was a good idea to even bring me here, noting how fast things have escalated between myself and her friend when good ol' Bobby opens the door cloaked in smiles. I swear to god, the boy must defecate sunshine.

"Hey guys, what's up?"

"Just introductions," Rogue says hastily, going over to his side and linking their arms. "So, we ready to go?"

Rogue could have asked him if he wanted to skinny dip in the La Brea tar pits and he'd have been game by the look on his face. "Sure! John, you coming?"

He snorts. "Nah, I've got better things to do. I'll catch you geeks later."

Bobby shrugs, motioning for me to follow them out the door. "All right, we'll catch you later. Come on, Adrian."

Walking out of the room I go to shut the door, finding John with his hand already on the handle. Unable to stop the smirk forming on my face I pause a moment. "It was absolutely fantastic making your acquaintance. See you around, Prometheus."

"Yeah, whatever." The door shuts. My smirk transforming into a look of pure satisfaction with myself, having bested the first sign of adversary in my new home, I jog over to Rogue and Bobby, who are already halfway down the hall. Water, I can feel it now, the surging confidence rolling in beneath the surface. I've finally attained the beginnings of something stable for the first time in weeks and it's incredible. Serene, I chat amiably with the couple beside me as we make our way back down the hall and around the grounds of Xavier's exceptionally gifted school.
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