Author's Notes- Due to a recent influx of responsibilities (mainly work and school related) I've been unfortunately unable to finish this last chapter until now, something I feel a bit guilty about considering. I'm working two jobs right now, and school starts next week, so while I cannot promise daily, or even weekly, updates under some circumstances, I do plan on keeping things rolling regardless. Thanks to all you fantabulous people who reviewed, as it means the world to me to receive feedback, I graciously applaud your patience and support. This is another long chapter, fourteen pages, so I hope it will make up for the delay. Suffice to say that shit goes down. Thanks again, and please, don't hesitate to drop a review and let me know what you think. Enjoy!

Disclaimer- I still own jack and the powers that be know it. Don't sue me and I'll love you long time. Or something.

"Every time I think of you
I feel shot right through with a bolt of blue.
It's no problem of mine
But it's a problem I find,
Living a life that I can't leave behind.
But there's no sense in telling me
The wisdom of the fool won't set you free.
But that's the way that it goes
And it's what nobody knows,
Well every day my confusion grows."
-New Order, 'Bizarre Love Triangle'

Chapter 11- "This Apparatus Must Be Unearthed"

I awoke six hours later, eyes snapping open, alert in the early-dawn light that flooded into the room. I felt conscious, alive and well rested, with no headache or any other post-alcoholic grievances to weigh me down. Needless to say, I was pleasantly surprised. Taking this as a sign of goodwill from whatever fate had in store for me, I quietly got up, grabbing some clothes and making my way into the bathroom. Turning on the shower, I set my things down on the sink and got undressed, barely waiting for the water to warm before I stepped in under the spray allowing the warming water to rinse over my body and clear away the impurities that had gathered there the day before. I glanced down at the bruises on my ribcage, gently feeling the tender flesh on my neck, and wished that, even for a minute, I might have Logan's gift rather than my own; at times like this, all it served to do was direct the water flow more levelly.

The memories of last night floated up and into recollection as I scrubbed myself clean, coloring my thoughts like so many of the glazed tiles that lined the shower cubicle. John and I, we had a bond, an unspoken pact of sorts, some tangible and concrete understanding between us. Insofar as the others knew, we loathed one another, arch-enemies, opposites. But in the presence of each other we could be civil, no bared teeth, cutting words or narrowed eyes. Alone, obscene as it sounded, we could be friends.

Perhaps it was the reality of taking out all the extra elements, the other people and thus erasing all former impressions and scenarios from the slate. I only knew what he allowed me to know, and what people told me of him, and his position was likewise in the sense that both of us were fairly helpless against one another under the circumstances. He recognized that, had taken it into his consideration and acted accordingly, and while it should be known that St. John Allerdyce does not, under any circumstances, let his guard slip unnecessarily around people he has yet to thoroughly feel out (in the figurative sense, though with some cases I doubt he'd mind it in the literal connotation either) and discern. The boy is sharp, he's a fucking miracle blade as far as I'm concerned, massaging shampoo into my scalp for a few moments before rinsing it off. I sigh, understanding tapping me impatiently upon my shoulder. Despite how silly it's bound to seem, he and Logan are so alike sometimes I could scream. I keep my silence, though, and continue showering until I've finished, turning off the water with a flick of my wrist and stepping out onto the bathmat to towel dry.

I pull the clothing on carefully. I'm not aching as badly as I was a few days ago, or when I first came here, for that matter, but falling from that desk in Summers' room the other night definitely didn't give me any warm, cuddly feelings when I tried to get comfortable. Fuck, even sitting down makes me irritable. I'll have to go to Dr. Grey and see if she's got any Tylenol, as I'm out. A few minutes later and I'm in a new pair of jeans from yesterday's shopping bonanza, an old Interpol tour shirt slouched on without much thought while I brush out my hair and make ready to go downstairs, tiptoeing out of the restroom. I pick up my school books quietly, grabbing the homework I have yet to complete for the aforementioned English teacher's class later that morning, stepping into my sneakers and out into the hall. It's about ten to seven right now, and the more rational part of my brain is howling at me, wondering what the fuck I'm doing awake right now.

Jesus, I wish I knew.

And it only figures that one of the six students currently in the dining hall at the moment is a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed Robert Drake. I could slap myself, but that thousand watt smile of his manages to stun me momentarily and I forget myself in my current irritation. I'm going to blame a lot of things on those perfect pearly-whites of his, and I think I'm well within my rights. They're damn-near hypnotic and I find myself having lost all memory as to how I end up at his table with a tray of food and my school books.

"Good morning, Adrian," my retinas scream as The Teeth get whiter and The Smile gets brighter. A chorus of fucking angels pop out of the sky and sing whenever Bobby smiles, and I find myself giving him a lop-sided grin in response, despite myself.

"'Morning Bobby. What's up?" I go through the motions. If it were anyone else, sans Piotr perhaps, I'd have asked them when they planned on getting their head checked, but this is Popsicle Boy, and his current state is hardly unexpected.

"Just came back in from getting cleaned up after my morning jog," he beams, taking a sip of juice and chomping down on a spoonful of-

You have got to be kidding me. He's even eating motherfucking Wheaties.

"That's awesome," I manage not to choke on my eggs, opening my notes to the class work that I'd completed yesterday and what questions of the homework I'd managed to finish before my impromptu lunchtime practice session. I pen the answers in a quick, messy scrawl, not really giving too much care to the task at hand as a thought crosses my mind. It's a little after four in the morning back west, but I owe someone a phone call and now's as good a time as ever to reach Maggie Moore on that horrid cell phone of hers. Scrambling to collect my preoccupied thoughts, as well as my things, I quickly bade Bobby a good morning and went off to the foyer where a student phone sat neatly upon a table in a corner, out of the way of the passing folk heading down to breakfast. I sighed gratefully, noting it vacant for the first time in days, and sat on the stiff chair beside it, picking the receiver up off the cradle and dialing the digits I had memorized better than my own social security number.

It rang four times before a groggy "Hello?" reached my ears and it was all I could do to keep myself in my chair.

"…Maggie?"

The voice on the other end became clear instantly. "Holy shit, Adrian? Adrian, is that you?"

I grimaced at the volume of my friend's tone. "Yeah, Mags, it's me, calm down. I'm all right, and I'm so, so sorry I didn't call you sooner."

Maggie was more prone to tears than outright, blatant anger, so I was thoroughly surprised when her words met my ears across the country. "You'd fucking better be, Adrian Mills! I was worried fucking sick about you, I thought you were dead, that some psycho had you hanging in his closet, or that the cops had caught you and turned you over to the Labs, or that Jeffrey and his fucking gang of dickless, witless assholes had tracked you down- shit, Adrian, I was so fucking scared-"

Shit, Jeffery, I'd almost forgotten about him over my last few days in my beloved mutant biosphere. "They haven't done anything to you, have they?" I interrupted her. "Maggie? They haven't hurt you, have they?"

Silence, spiced with a bit of static for poignancy, greeted me in response.

"Maggie," the students walking around me were tuned out as a sick, awful weight settled into my belly. I could barely hear myself speak as a faint buzzing sound grounded itself in the back of my mind. "Maggie, what did they do to you?"

"Where are you?"

"Don't change the fucking subject on me Maggie, what the fuck happened?" People were starting to give me strange looks now, but I couldn't have cared less. Rage, soft, dark and palpable wormed it's way into me, saturated my senses. Nausea gripped me as I heard her begin to cry quietly on the other end of the telephone.

"I'm sorry, Adrian, I… I couldn't…"

My voice came out in a low whisper, horrified. "Mags, what did they do to you?"

"They…" it was all she could manage between choked sobs and sniffles for a good minute or so. I cursed myself, damning my cowardice and the selfish stupidity that had lead me here.

Various grim scenarios raced through my mind, none of them aiding my current state as I struggled to bite back the scream that had hooked it's claws into the rear of my throat. Maggie, my friend, the girl I'd met and grown up with all those years ago on the playground, she was my constant companion. And yet I'd left her there, back in Los Angeles, to the mercy of whatever those bastards had been planning to do to her, I'd turned my back on her and run. Responsibility set in and it took all I had to bite my tongue so as not to tell her how sorry I was. Apologizing wouldn't do anything for her now, my hollow words would fail her just as I had and I hated myself for it. Gasping for breath, she managed to get herself under control long enough to choke something out.

"Adrian, they hurt me… oh god, Adrian, I didn't know what to do. I just, where are you?"

Quiet, a dead sound spoke where my voice should have been. "I'm in New York. I'm… there's a place here that helps people like me, I…" I couldn't bring myself to continue. Not now, not after this.

I heard muffled noises through the receiver as Maggie calmed herself. "Shit, Adrian, I woke my mom up. I have to go. Call me back later, all right?"

I went to reply the affirmative, but the line cut and I was instead met with a long beeping sound and an empty void. Numb, I put the phone back in it's cradle and stood. It was half past seven now, students and teachers were up milling about the school preparing for classes as I remained still in that corner, trying to make sense of it all, to sift through the emotions that barraged my mind and choked the breath from my lungs. Without a word I walked out the door, leaving my things where I'd put them.

The moment my feet hit the pavement I ran, bolting around the side of the mansion and off into the forest surrounding the grounds. The earth was treacherous, but not so much as I, and I found myself navigating past tree roots and over the uneven soil with the ease of those damned by conscience. Branches lashed out at me, trees threw themselves in my path as if to lay my guilt before me at face value but I know now the weight of my soul and it terrifies me. Nothing, not even John Doe Psycho Rapist holding a knife to my neck, possesses me the way this newfound knowledge does. And yet I knew it, somewhere in the back of my mind, I'd known that this had happened to her for days, and I'd done nothing. I'd idled around, procrastinating, adjusting to a new life without that one person I'd held most precious to me. I was a fraud, I was a hypocrite, I was filth, a ruddy coward through and through and, god willing, I'd be mistaken for a deer within the next thirty seconds and be shot by some ignorant hick with a gun. But the bullet never came and I sank deeper and deeper into the growth surrounding me, stumbling forward at a breakneck pace with blind accuracy.

It wasn't until my shoes skid on the slippery rocks below that I realized my error as I pitched forward, falling face-first into the stream in front of me with a cry. The water, cold, harsh and unforgiving, ran rampant over me in the shallows as I floundered, pushing myself up in the three-foot deep pool. It was almost summer and yet the water was biting and icy, stinging my skin like nettles as I fought for footing on the muddy rocks. I failed her, I failed her, oh god, Maggie, I'm so fucking sorry…

I looked down at myself, dirty palms scratched and bleeding from the sharp gravel beneath my shoes, my elbows and knees having faired likewise. It was only then that I noticed the hot, burning sensation traveling down my face and I realized that I was crying. Bitter, heaving sobs wracked my frame as I settled myself into the murky shallows of the water, clawing at my face with the suffocating sense of self-loathing misery that now reigned supreme. They'd hurt her. Those bastards had hurt her so badly she could barely talk about it, my Maggie, the girl who had always been so vocal and outspoken. And I hadn't been there to protect her. I hadn't been there for her when she needed me the most, after all those years of close, binding friendship, of sisterhood. Finally, I let loose the wail that I'd held at bay throughout the phone conversation, the scream echoing around me as I voiced myself in that most primal of ways. Eyes clenched tight, I drew a shuddering breath. When I opened them I almost choked, gazing at the area around me.

The water no longer pulled at my sodden clothes, it's frigid tinge left my limbs as I brought my hand to my mouth in what can only be described as dumb-founded shock. The small riverbed was dry as a bone beneath my feet, the mud and silt caking the area cracked and arid where I stood. Looking up and down the length of the stream, I gaped in wide-eyed astonishment. It wasn't until then that I ventured a look at the surrounding banks and wrapped my arms around myself, trying to still the shakes that took hold of me. Everything around me, the plants, the trees, even the goddamn thistles I'd almost run into a little down the way, were brown and dead, brittle shells of the things they'd once been. Dry leaves clung to lifeless branches, fluttering and falling in the warm breeze, an eerie silence reigned supreme as I stared stupidly around me.

Everything was…

"Adrian Mills, what have you done?" I breathed, barely trusting myself to speak coherently at the sight before me. This had to be a dream, all of this had to be some hideous, alcohol induced nightmare that I'd be sure to soak John's pants for during breakfast. I stooped gently, reaching out to grasp a handful of silt that lay on the ground before me. Dry, soft sand particles filtered through my fingers as I gazed wordlessly at it, my mind a horrified blank. My legs gave way beneath me and I fell to me knees on the dry clay below, a dull buzzing in my ears, trying desperately to figure out what had just happened to me, what I'd done to the land around me. There are no deserts in New York, I reminded myself. Good god, Professor Munroe was never going to let me near her gardens again.

For the love of all that is holy, where did the water go?

Whatever it is I've done, however I could have possibly achieved such a feat, it's taken it's toll on me as I continue to slump to the ground, exhausted. Shock has parted and made way for acceptance as I feel the back of my head lay firm on the dried-up river bed. There are stones beneath me, poking into my back and into my tender ribs, but I can barely focus my eyes any more as I gaze upward, through the dead trees and into the bright blue of the sky. There's not a cloud in sight, I manage to observe, vision swimming in the excess of whatever force I've unwittingly used. I try to stretch my senses out, feeling with my mind for whatever water might be nearby, but it's as though a drought has come and wiped it all from the surrounding land. This awful blight I've created has a familiar ring to it and, yes Dr. Grey, I'm sure I could tell you it's relation to protein synthesis in just a moment. I'm not feeling well, ma'am, my head is spinning. I think I'll lie down for a moment and catch my breath in the shade. It must be the humidity, Dr. Grey, I'm not used to it in the slightest. My god, you're not even here at all, are you? I'm hallucinating, I'm loosing my mind. But I fear it's already lost but for the sensation of something slipping within me, sliding into blackness.

I awaken at mid-day to a shadow kneeling beside me, shading me from the harsh sun above. There's a hand on my shoulder, shaking me roughly awake and I start, sitting up fast and regretting it as soon as my vision starts to blacken around the edges less than a moment later.

"Mills, you all right? C'mon kid, say something."

I shake my head, chasing the darkness away and looking at the man stooped level beside me with something akin to disbelief. "Logan?"

He nods. Those damn sideburns of his are unmistakable. "You got it, darlin'. You all right?"

I run a hand over my face, guilt welling up within me. "No, I'm not. Everything's gone to shit, Logan. I'm even beginning to think Summers' curses his goddamn whiskey. When did you get back?"

"A few hours ago. Chuck sent me out to look for you, said you had an episode earlier on in the day and ran." I catch his gaze, the sturdy hazel making me lucid. It centers me, bringing back the memories of the morning and I find myself fighting to keep my already weakening composure.

"This isn't an 'episode', it's a fucking wasteland. I… I don't know what happened." The horror is back again, the full realization that this was all my doing. I, Adrian Mills, have created upstate New York's very own mini-Death Valley. "I thought I manipulated water. I make toilets overflow, Logan, not- not this!" I sweep my hand towards the banks of the river, nearing hysteria. I want off this fucking crazy pony ride, I don't know how much more of it I can deal with; Maggie, my powers going ape shit on me, this is just beyond excessive.

"Calm down, kid, you're fine. Let's get you back to the mansion and we'll get you sorted out, all right? Don't worry, just let me help you up." Logan stands, and when he sees that I barely have the energy to do the same, my Knight in Denim Armor scoops me up like I'm in nursery school and carries me through the forest. A great part of me is embarrassed with the treatment, the fact that I can barely sit up straight, much less walk, but Logan keeps mum about it. He doesn't make fun of me for my immobility, nor does he comment on the state of the wood surrounding us as we push forward through it, back toward the school. I start to see green things again about a hundred feet into our journey and the relief that floods over me is tangible. Floored and worn out, I lean my head on Logan's shoulder and drift off again.

I open my eyes an a few hours later, time seeming to pop in and out of reality around me, indefinite. Or perhaps I'm the one doing all the inter-dimensional traveling, I feel like I'm in one of the old Star Wars movies. A quick look around me and I find myself in an unnaturally sterile room, the atmosphere creeping me out quite sufficiently as I feel my heart-rate increase nervously. I have no idea where I am, though the first thought that pops into my mind is that, somehow, I've been found and captured by a Lab due to my earlier debacle in the forest. Trying to remove myself from the steely grips of the panic that's making it's way 'round my bloodstream, I whisper out into the silence. "Logan?"

"He'll be right back, he just went to get something for you to eat," a voice says to my left and I try not to start too badly as I turn my head to gaze at it's owner from my vantage point.

"Dr. Grey?" The red-haired woman smiles comfortingly, approaching me.

"I'm sorry if waking up here frightened you, but I felt it was best if you were monitored, to be sure you were recovering properly," she explained, looking over some charts on a clipboard she had balanced elegantly in midair. Aside from a few displays in her science class I'd never really had the privilege of seeing her telekinesis so close at hand, it was amazing. "The Professor heard you calling out to me earlier in the day while you were hallucinating, before you fainted in the woods. He's the one who sent Logan to retrieve you."

I nodded in understanding. "Thank you for taking care of me, Dr. Grey. I hope I haven't been too much trouble." I was attempting to be as gracious as possible, despite the cruel whispers in the back of my mind stating that I deserved no better than a bed of nails for all the strife I'd caused. I lowered my eyes to the foot of my bed, trying to keep myself focused.

"Adrian, I hope you don't mind my asking, but is something the matter? Something that might have triggered this side of your mutation?" Dr. Grey asked tentatively, knowing full well that she was obviously moving toward very sensitive subject matter. I bit my tongue.

Fingering the edge of the bed sheet, I concentrated on a plastic chair located across the room. "Please don't think it rude of me, doctor, but I can't really talk about it right now." Because really, how am I supposed to explain that I can sense the water in her body. That I can feel it there, registering in the back of my mind where I could not before.

Back at the river, I finally caught a glimpse of that shadow lurking in the corner of my vision, and holy fuck is it terrifying. I'm too drained to even begin to comprehend the repercussions of such a thing, and at the moment, I'm not really sure I want to. This shatters the security I found here, molds the entire experience at Charles Xavier's school into something far more weighty than I could have ever fathomed when I first arrived. I lie my head back, closing my eyes at the nervous wave of nausea that seizes my body. Is nothing sacred? Can nothing be spared these horrifying changes within myself? I hear the door open and shut with a soft click, Dr. Grey's murmured farewell as she exits the room. I don't even have to open my eyes to know he's there, I can feel the water in his body as he moves toward me and sits in the chair at my bedside.

"Feelin' better kid?"

I open my eyes and stare at the opposite end of the room with no small hint of resignation. "No." There's a silence that stretches on between us and I'm struggling to get a hold upon myself. Before my mutation surfaced the only thing I'd ever really had fear of was death and things that go bump in the night, all of that silly, immature bullshit kids get chills over. But with this added into the mix, this latest episode, Christ, I was afraid of myself, of what I could do with or without meaning to. All of this raw power, it made me an enormous liability. And after what I'd done in the forest I had high doubts that anyone would ever think of me the same way again. My actions, even unconscious, had resulted in pure, mindless destruction of a rather awful scale and I could only imagine what the Professor would have to say about this. "I… I'm going to get thrown out, aren't I?"

Logan looked up at me as though I'd sprouted another head. "What the hell are you talkin' about, Mills?"

I toyed with the corner of my bed sheet absently, avoiding his eyes. "The forest, Logan, I- I'm dangerous. I shouldn't be around other people, not when I can do that."

"That's a load of crap, kid, and you know it. There are plenty of kids here with harmful mutations but we don't chuck 'em out the moment they screw up. You're here to learn how to control them, and that includes messing up every once in a while. Kid, look at me," I raise my gaze to peer up at him, my head bowed somewhat in my anxiousness. "I'm not tellin' you all of this just to make you feel better, all right? It's the truth and-"

"I could feel you when you walked in here." I state, cutting him off. He frowns slightly, brow furrowing in confusion. "A few feet outside the door, actually, I could sense you. Dr. Grey too. Probably everyone else if I concentrated hard enough."

My sentences are short, clipped like pinion wings as I feel the cold dread shifting around in my stomach. Logan appears somewhat surprised with this revelation. "How?"

"I can- it's strange, it wasn't like this before." I search my brain for the words. "Before, when I first came here, when my mutation first surfaced, I could sense liquid water in it's natural form. You know, like rivers, streams, piping and stuff, but now… I can sense it when it's in things, you know? While it's inside living things." I took a breath and forged ahead. "Like trees, plants, animals… and people."

He was quiet for a moment as he considered the ramifications of what I'd said. "You're gonna want to talk to the Professor, tell him everything that happened so that he can help you figure out how to control it. This isn't the end of the world, kid, you'll be all right." He must have noticed how tense I was, must have sensed that I hadn't told him everything, because he took one of my hands inside his larger ones, oddly devoid of callouses due to his healing factor, squeezing it gently.

"It's Maggie," I whispered after a moment, looking at the knuckles of his hand, connecting skilled fingers to a vast palm. "I finally called her today. She's my best friend; I've known her since we were kids." I paused, my jaw clenching involuntarily as the feelings from earlier on that day returned to me. "She's getting hurt for being close to me, for having a mutant as a friend. And there's nothing I can do, I can't protect her, I can't kick their asses for her like I used to. She's so vulnerable, and- fuck, Logan, she couldn't even tell me what they'd done to her!"

I look at my white-knuckled grip on his hand and loosen it immediately, deflating. I know that I probably haven't caused him much pain, I mean, the man has bones coated in fucking adamantium, but I still feel guilty and I apologize softly to him with lowered eyes. He shakes his head. "Kid, you've got nothin' to be sorry for. You've got someone out there who means the world to you and you can't help them when they need it most. It hurts. Granted, Chuck'll probably have better outlets in mind for that sort of thing that don't include killing off the forest, but I can't blame you for it. People have done worse."

"I know, it's just," I sigh. "What if… I mean, shit Logan, what if I do the same thing to a group of people! I don't fucking understand it, I thought I just moved water around, and the next thing I know it's all evaporated and dry and dead and it's all my fault! And I know it's possible, I can feel it. It's like a fucking switch, all I have to do is flick it and it's done. It scares me," I finish quietly.

Someone once said "With great power comes great responsibility", though their name eludes me. I hope to god they're still alive though, because when I find them I'm going to slap them so goddamn hard their head spins around faster than Linda Blair in The Exorcist. I never asked for this, I never wanted this, and now that I have it I feel as though I'm the epitome of Public Enemy. Not to completely rip Weezer off and pull an 'El Scorcho' or anything, but really, the feeling is more daunting than any other concept I've encountered and all I feel is about thirty-two fucking flavors of helpless. I want to break something. "I need a cigarette," I mumble, for lack of anything else to say.

Logan shakes his head, standing. "Well, Red said you're free to go if you're feeling up to it."

I nod. "I'm fine, just a little sore." Sitting up gently I moved off the bed, bare feet hitting the cool floor as I raised myself slowly into a standing position.

Logan cocked a brow at me. "You still look pretty beat, kid."

"Please, don't make me stay here any longer. I'm still tired but," I looked about the room, a shudder climbing up my spine. "This place gives me the creeps, it's too sterile. Can I please go?"

I must look fucking pathetically desperate for nicotine, because Logan nods, helping me to the door and out, down the hall. I recognize this place as the same corridor Bobby, Rogue and I transversed the other day on our way to the Danger Room, the overall map of the school slowly starting to piece itself together in my mind. We walk slow and steady to the elevator, Logan keeping in step with me as I shuffle pale and wobbly in and press the button to take us up.

As we move, I can't help but hope I don't run into anyone, not when I'm like this. I feel terrible for having probably worried my roommates, but there's no way I'm naive enough to think that word of my incident earlier today hasn't made it's way 'round the school grape vine by now. Rogue mentioned to me briefly the other day between classes what had happened the night Logan had stabbed her, how literally half the school had acted as though she'd been carrying The Plague. Right now the last thing I need is to repeat the freakish-dangerous-new-kid stage that I'm bound to get slapped with the moment they all put two and two together. If only they realized that it didn't equal five, that I'm not a complete psychopath, but I doubt many would see things differently in their positions as the concerned populace. God, I am so fucked.

It's going on seven thirty now and most of the students are either in the rec. room, finishing homework, or hanging out elsewhere within the school. Logan takes me outside, depositing me briefly on a bench while he goes upstairs to fetch my jacket and cigarettes. I want to tell him not to bother, because I feel bad, having someone like him as my butler for the evening, but he's gone before I can get the words out and I find myself silently thanking the gods above for having found me so blessed as to bequeath me with a Knight in Denim Armor. He's a caretaker and friend of the finest quality, though I feel badly for the former. It seems as though ever since we've met Logan's been stuck on babysitting duty with me and it riles my pride a bit to think that I'm so incapable of sustaining myself. I could cop out and say that, while I'm proficient, he does it so much better than I ever could, but even thinking the words makes me shake my head wryly, indignant. He comes back a minute later, depositing a lighter and a half-empty pack of Camel Lights in my hands.

"I've gotta work in the garage for a bit. You need anything come and get me, all right kid?" He towers over me for a moment and I shoo him off.

"Go on then, I'm not dying of pneumonia or anything, you don't have to worry about playing nurse-maid with me," I chuckle. Then, serious, I look up at him. "Thank you, though. For everything."

He nods, a ghost of something resembling a smile hovering over his face for a moment before he walks back inside, leaving me to the approaching twilight and my impending lung cancer. I place the cigarette between my lips, lighting and inhaling, breathing in the smoky calm with a grateful expression. I'm almost half-way done with it when I hear a soft exclamation from behind me.

"My gawd, Adrian, where have ya' been?"

I muster a quick, slight grin as Rogue comes around to face me, her deep brown eyes searching my own pale gray ones. "Are ya' all right? We heard 'bout what happened earlier."

I grimace, taking another pull off the filter. "I'm sure everyone has at this point. Should I be expecting death-threats tomorrow or just weird, avoidant staring?"

She smiled softly, moving to sit beside me on the bench. "More of the last option, Ah'd imagine. They did th' same to me- well, ya' already know all 'bout that." We're silent for a moment before she speaks again. "Ah know ya' probably don't wanna talk about it right now, but if ya' ever need to, Ah'm here, all right? We don't think any different of ya'."

The last bit was unexpected, but immensely relieving. "Really? I turned half the forest into kindling, Rogue, that's never a good thing. I would understand if you guys weren't too keen on hanging out with me for it."

Rogue gave me a look and then laughed, shaking her head. "Ya really are a piece o' work, Adrian. C'mon, yer talkin' to the girl with deadly skin here, fer god's sake. None of us are perfect, even Bobby still freezes things when he gets really unnerved and Piotr's accidentally broken more dish wear 'n crushed more doorknobs than he cares to remember. Jubilee's got bed sheets and clothes with holes in 'em from her sparks and even Kitty still phases through things when ya' startle her."

"And I'm guessing John is the golden boy of control amongst our merry little band, then?" I shake my head, blowing a group of smoke rings off into the sky.

The other girl's lips curved upward into a triumphant smirk. "Ya' only say that 'cause ya' weren't here that week he singed his eyebrows off. Jubilee laughed so hard she almost wet her pants."

"I can't say I wouldn't have done the same in her position. They seem to have grown back all right though, nothing terribly bushy or unsightly," I stopped, wondering what in the hell I was doing admiring someone's eyebrows, John's, of all people. Rogue's expression turned sly for a moment as she feigned nonchalance.

"Yeah. So, where'd ya' go last night? Ya' missed curfew."

I shrugged stiffly, my ribs cutting me back down to size for my earlier antics. "I went up onto the roof and hung out for a while."

"By ya'self? Bobby said that John didn't come back in last night either."

I turn to meet her gaze, an eyebrow arched, though not in ill-humor, as I crush my cigarette out against the leg of the bench. "I thought Jubilee was the resident gossip hound of the school, Rogue, I'm surprised."

She laughed, an eternal southern belle. "Oh, trust me, Ah don't have anythin' on her. She's actually the one who pestered John 'bout it today, said that it was his fault ya' weren't comin' to classes 'cause he'd given ya' too much to drink or something."

I blinked. "Shit, she really knows her stuff, doesn't she? Well, about the alcohol, I mean." Rogue's eyebrows shot up a notch in mild surprise and I continued quickly. "I wasn't in classes for a completely unrelated reason, though. I can hold my liquor against Prometheus just fine I'll have her know."

"Wow, Ah never woulda thought you two, of all people, would be the type t' be gettin' all cozy up on the roof with a bottle a Jack," she grinned at my expression as I tried to protest, indignant. "Ah know, Ah know, it probably wasn't anythin' like that, Ah'm just givin' ya a hard time, and preparin' ya for the talkin' to Jubilee's gonna give ya' when she sees ya'."

"But nothing happened! Jesus, she knows what we're like, it was just sort of a cease-fire for a while, an excuse for two people in desperate need of alcohol to indulge themselves, if anything," I explained, recalling the surreally enjoyable experience that was the last night. "And it was Maker's Mark, not Jack Daniel's; Professor Summers drinks the good stuff."

Rogue gaped at me. "Adrian, ya' stole from Summers' stash? Ah- mah goodness, I didn't even think the man had it in 'im to drink."

"Well, he'd made a nice dent in it before we got into it, so I guess he's not so much of a stick in the mud as we give him credit for," I chuckled. "It's pretty funny, though, imagining him drunkenly stumbling about. If I concentrate hard enough I can see him in a karaoke bar wailing along to 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun'."

The Mississippi native beside me burst into laughter. "Oh mah gawd, Ah'd pay to see that. Ah'd give up a year's allowance, Ah'm serious! Any time things got tough for us all we'd have to do is imagine Summers' shaken' his thing to Cyndi Lauper and we'd be fine."

"We should bring it up to Professor Xavier sometime as a motivational tool for the students," I cackled, wincing softly at the ache in my ribs. "Though at this point, I'm sure he already knows, what with the telepathy and all."

Rogue nodded. "It's a little unnerving sometimes."

"Only if you're paranoid about that sort of thing, like I am. I've been taking measures against it though, a bit of payback, if you will," I explained. "Every time I think of something remotely incriminating I immediately revert my mind to thinking of the cast of Golden Girls engaged in a wild, sex romp. I'd imagine that's pretty fucking effective."

"Oh Jesus, Adrian, that's awful!" She made a face, laughing regardless. After a moment she looked up at the sky. "We should probably get back inside, Kitty's bound to be worried about ya'. She sent me out to see if Ah might be able to find ya' earlier, I guess Ah got lucky."

"Indeed, especially considering that I was down in that fucking creepy hospital wing you guys have here not too long ago," I made to stand, placing my lighter and cigarette pack in my back pocket. I still felt sort of out of it, but my clarity returned after a moment as we walked back indoors and headed upstairs.

On the way to our room we passed Piotr, who nodded in greeting, his gaze resting on me a moment as he strode by. I gave him a reassuring smile, though it was more half-hearted than I'd have liked it to be. I was worn out, my emotions, while currently subdued, still causing me some hardship. We continued down the hall in a comfortable silence until we reached the door, Rogue turning the handle in an elegantly gloved hand. A familiar bundle of shrieking yellow could barely wait for the passage to be completely cleared, though, as Jubilee nearly tackled me to the ground, her arms wrapped around my midsection.

"Oh my fucking god, Adrian, where the hell have you been! Are you all right? Did Summers' yell at you? I swear to god, if John did anything-"

I laughed. "Whoa, Jubes, slow down, it's all right. Summers' hasn't busted me yet, I can hold my liquor and I just came back from the spooky infirmary in the basement."

"Is it true? Did your powers really go crazy on you earlier?" Kitty asks, perched atop her bed in a neat, cross-legged position. Moving inside, I shut the door and nod, quiet with the cold, anxious fear that's coursing through my veins. Rogue said none of them thought of me any differently, but perhaps she'd spoken only for herself, projecting her thoughts upon her friends. I stood there wordlessly, waiting for her response.

"You didn't get hurt, did you?" It's immediate, concern apparent on my other roommate's features and it's all I can do not to keel over with relief.

"I'm fine I guess," I answer, Jubilee looking up at me with a frown. "I've just… there's a lot on my mind right now. Some really bad shit went down back at home and dealing with it is a lot harder than I'd expected it to be."

Kitty's nodded sympathetically, catching on. "Are things all right with your parents? Mine divorced last year while I was here, I was such a wreck I stayed phased for a day and a half before I was able to control myself again."

I was a bit taken aback at the forward nature they all seemed to reveal their short-comings with, their trials and errors. To do thus requires trust, to be so open as to share something so easily twisted against oneself. Rogue had been the first to tell me, and now Kitty had also brought me into the fold, I was touched. "No, it's not my parents. I haven't spoken to them in weeks."

"Glad Ah'm not the only runaway in this room anymore," Rogue grinned softly, the black humor earning a smirk from me as well. Jubilee kept her mouth shut and I knew better than to pry. If she wanted to say anything about her family she'd do it on her own terms, though her apparent silence spoke louder than any words she might have mustered, in English or the Cantonese she seemed to favor while doing her math homework or playing video games.

"Treacherous conversational paths aside," Kitty amended, "we're glad you're all right. You really gave us a scare, running off like that; we were really worried."

I shrugged awkwardly. "I really didn't mean to frighten anyone, I just needed some time alone. I'm glad I ran to the forest, I don't even want to think of what would have happened if I'd done that here… oh god." I shuddered, the thought too ghastly for me to consider for too long. As of now it was one of my greatest fears, accidentally losing control and draining everything until it was all arid and lifeless; this upgrade on my mutation came with some serious fucking issues.

"Hey, none of that," Jubilee swatted at my arm, grinning wide. "Shit happens, chica, but we don't have to spend forever thinking about it. There are far more pressing issues to be addressed tonight, like what you were really doing up on the roof last night with St. John."

I shook my head, laughing. "We had a drink and a chat, nothing more, I assure you."

She gaped at me. "You… you didn't even make out! What the hell is wrong with you, Adrian, have you seen those lips of his?"

"Now, now Jubilee," Rogue tried to hide her grin. "Not everyone wanted to kiss John this summer."

The smaller girl put her hands on her hips. "Hrmph. 'Wanted to'? I did!"

Kitty groaned. "Yes, we've heard this story before, Jubes, and then Professor Munroe walks in and you both started fighting to cover it up and then you got detention for some stupidly long amount of time after John set a desk on fire-"

Jubilee smirked triumphantly. "It really was a great story, wasn't it?"

"Not after the forty-third tellin'," Rogue made a face, earning a chuckle from me. Insofar as I'm concerned, I have the best roommates ever. While I'm free to be as independent as I like, something personified by breaking curfew to stay out on the roof and drink with the school's resident badass, they're also an instant, grounding comfort should things take a turn for the worst. I wonder briefly if I should tell them about Maggie, but it's getting close to nine and after the stunts I've pulled today I'm actually fairly exhausted. Intuitive genius' that they are, of course, they take one look at my sallow features and give each other that knowing glance, steering me toward my bed.

"Oh well. No more booze for you tonight, chica, you need some 'Z's more than Professor Summers' needs to get laid. And that's badly, trust me," she rooted through my dresser, tossing an old tee shirt and a pair of sleeping shorts over her shoulder at me.

Kitty's eyes went wide. "Jubes! But I- aren't he and Dr. Grey-?"

"Just 'cause they're all wifey around each other doesn't mean she doesn't have man's tightest leash around his neck. You seriously wonder why he's so high-strung? He would not be like that if he was getting his just desserts every evening, let me tell you," she gave her friend a knowing look, which caused Rogue to promptly slap her forehead. "And really, despite being a total tightass, he's pretty hot, I don't see why she doesn't roll around in the hay with him more often."

"Oh mah gawd, Jubilation Lee, Ah don't even want t' know how in the hell ya' think ya' know that, but please, Ah'm beggin' ya', stop. Let the man suffer his supposed celibacy in silence, with his dignity still intact."

Kitty snorted. "Good luck with that one, he'll be lucky if the whole school doesn't know about it by noon tomorrow."

I grinned, yawning. "I'd expect no less from my darling Gossip Princess. Thank you Jubilee, for that glorious insight. I'll recall that forever now during his class while he spouts mouthfuls of literary pish-posh that even I'm uninterested in."

"Ah swear, yer more like John than ya' give ya'self credit for. Ya'd better watch out or ya'll be best friends before ya' know it." Rogue cackled at the look I gave her, the deadpan eyebrow-raising far too much like Logan for me to even bother explaining myself.

"They'll be making adorable little friendship bracelets and everything, it'll be so cute!" Kitty squealed, only heightening my quasi-awkward discomfort. Grabbing the clothing Jubilee had thrown at me I headed into the bathroom.

"You guys have fun in that little fantasy world of yours, because seriously, that alternate reality shit is insane. And completely unlikely, mind you," I called out from behind the closed door while I changed. A chorus of laughter floated in under the cracks and I shook my head, smiling despite myself at their good-natured teasing.

The day had come to a far more sublime end than I'd ever thought possible, considering it's debasing beginning, and my three roommates definitely had a large stake in making that possible. Logan as well, for having brought me down from my hysteria and coaxing me back into reality. I briefly entertained the notion of buying him a "thank you" card of sorts, but all of that Hallmark bullshit was more likely to upset his stomach than actually do him any good, he'd probably just sharpen his claws on it. Giving myself a brief once-over in the mirror, I was pleased to note that the bruises on my neck had grown more faint, the purple having all but faded into a dull, lackluster gray.

Regardless of everything that had happened today, all the vast emotional blunders and the awe-inspiring uses of power, I felt somewhat at peace with myself. Tomorrow's evening lesson with Professor Munroe was sure to give me some answers if not aid me completely in focusing my newfound abilities and the notion was reassuring, to say the least. Logan was right, everyone at this school screwed up, some more devastatingly than others, but Charles Xavier made certain that his students learned to control and discipline themselves in the modern world, a thought I had vested a goodly amount of hope in after today's little stunt. These people had no doubt dealt with far worse than whatever I could dish out and, while some might have been insulted by such a blow to their ego, I was comforted by it, the knowledge that these good, tolerant people could keep me in line if necessary. I was surprised slightly when I realized that, if needed, I'd do the same for them without reservation.

I turned the faucet on, running the cool water over my hands and splashing it up onto my face. While the issues at home with Maggie were completely damning in their emotional and traumatic weight, I knew that there had to be a way to make it all right again. Perhaps I'd inherited some of Jubilee's interminable optimism via some strange dorm-mate osmosis, or perhaps I was merely trying my hardest to convince myself that the situation wasn't completely upon my own conscience, as the guilt was absolutely maddening, but I knew that something could be done to set the entire thing right again. I'd call her back tomorrow, after I'd slept, during lunch perhaps, and I'd tell her everything. After listening to me go off, there was no way she wouldn't want to open up a bit so that I could aid her in working through what had happened, though the vagueness she'd kept the issue shrouded in gnawed at me with worrying teeth more than I cared to admit. She was my best friend, there had to be something I was good for, even all the way out here. I knew her better than even she knew herself, and vice-versa, and that was heartening, considering what we'd both gone through in the last two weeks.

I dried my face and hands on a fluffy terry-cloth towel hanging from a rack on the wall, chuckling softly to myself. That was one thing they had wrong, the three girls chattering eagerly out in the room beyond; unique, close friendships weren't something easily forged, especially not between two completely unwilling parties. There was no way in hell St. John Allerdyce and I would ever be so close as Maggie and myself, and there was no real reason to be. Within out cloistered little circle we were all good friends, everyone supported one another, but for the moment I was hard-pressed to see any really true, burning friendships in that absolute, live-or-die "best friend" sense that so many people tried to tote about. The circumstances were different here, everything was separate yet equal, perhaps only until properly acquainted, yet it still failed to give off the same feel to me. I'd probably be eating my words in the morrow, but at the moment it was a rational thought that seemed to make perfect sense to my person. Stretching tiredly, I opened the door to the restroom and flicked off the light, saturating the area with darkness until morning came anew.
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