Ahh… I think I forgot to mention in Ch. 1, this is set about…oh…a year after Ascension I and II, the final two episodes of X-Men: Evolution. I estimate those episodes, in turn, to be about six months after Cajun Spice (which is, of course, one of my favorite episodes!). Most of the exposition in chapter one is based off of the ending of Ascension II, though I did try not to give too much away. That said, however, you do not have to have seen that episode to understand this fic; that's why all that intro is given, to give you a frame of reference. All you need to know is in that loooooong expositionary passage in the beginning of Chapter 1. (Which, BTW, I have rewritten to make it a little clearer, a little easier to read, but the info is pretty much the same. (I think.) )

On with the fic!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"…and no powers, kids, all right?" Logan finished his lecture, growling. "We don't need to have people think we're all crazy when Professor X is in this conference telling the world we're not crazy. Ya got me?"

A murmur of "Yes"s and "Yeah"s rose from the assembled teenagers, most of whom were not paying much attention—with the exception of Scott and Jean, of course.

"When I open this door, you all need to go check into your own hotel rooms. You all know who your roommates are, and there's no changing them now."

He eyed them a moment more, and mentally shrugged. I've just gotta hope they don't do anything stupid… He reached for the door control, and paused. "Yeah, one more thing… you decide to drink, fine, you're all legal here, but you get yourself in trouble, you're gettin' yourself out of trouble and I hear nothing about it. If it's bad enough that I do hear about it, then you're in even bigger trouble with me, and you'll wish I'd just left you in jail here. Got that?"

Most of the faces in front of him paled at that threat, and very sincere "Yes, Mr. Logan"s rose from the assembled teens, who had settled down somewhat at the implied threat. Well, at least they're not going to go tearing off immediately now, he sighed. He hit the control to the Blackbird's door, and the ramp smoothly lowered to the ground. A stampede of Discmans and magazines went by. Kids. Whywas he here at this school again?

"Hey, Logan," Rogue said, pausing before she exited the plane. "Get a beer later, sugah?" She said, mock-flirty. "'Cause I can't pass up the 'Rogue having a beer with Logan' photo op. Gotta keep up the rep with the kids back home," she laughed.

Oh. That's why. He grinned his crooked grin at the young woman who was so like a daughter to him. "Sure, darlin'," he drawled. "I'll even buy you one."

She flashed a smile at him, ducking out into the sunlight, the white streaks glinting in her hair. "See ya later, then!" She jogged out and met Remy, who courteously took her bag for her. The pair headed into the hotel, and Logan set about securing the Blackbird.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Like, say 'cheese,' Mr. Logan!" Kitty Pryde called from across the table, camera at the ready. She'd been taking photos all night. He looked up in mid-swig, startled. At the last second, Rogue landed beside him on the bench, pint glass in hand, just in time to get in the shot. The others crowded around Kitty as she waited for the digital picture to display. There was a shout of laughter from the group. Kitty turned the camera around to show him. He had to admit, the photo was pretty funny: his own eyes were half-narrowed, and he simply looked pissed that his beer had been interrupted, while Rogue was caught mid-laugh, hair swinging, and was giving him a look out of the side of her eye like an amused "what is up with him?"

"Ahhh, good times in England," Rogue snickered, then squeaked as an arm snaked around her waist as Remy slid in beside her. Kitty snatched the camera out of Wolverine's hand, and quickly snapped another image, perfectly in time to catch Remy pecking Rogue on the cheek. The rest of the teens crowded in, even more interested to see this photo, since all attempts to photograph the Southern couple in the States had ended with broken cameras (or broken noses).

Another shout of laughter. Logan winced, his sensitive hearing unprepared for the sheer amount of sound that could come out of fourteen young throats at once.

"Hey, what's that over Rogue's shoulder?" Amanda asked, pointing at the tiny screen. Kitty leaned in closer.

"I don't know." The entire group standing across the table glanced up, as one, at Remy and Rogue. Reflexively, they looked behind themselves, where the rest were looking, but saw only the bare wood-paneled wall behind them.

"What is it? Let me see." She said, and Kitty handed the camera over. Both Logan and Remy leaned in to see the screen, Remy resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Just looks like some light reflected back, p'tite," he shrugged after a glance at the screen, which showed himself kissing Rogue. Oddly, however, there was a bluish-white blur just to the other side of Rogue, near the white streak in her hair.

"But there's nothing on the wall to reflect!" Rogue said, and handed the camera to Logan. "What do you think?"

He gave them all a pointed look. "I think Half-Pint, there, needs to put the camera away, and I think the rest of you have had enough to drink, and should get some sleep. Remember, we're going on that driving countryside tour tomorrow." He couldn't help the sarcasm that entered his voice. "I'm sure you'll all want to be wide-awake for that."

Low grumbles erupted from the group, but they were half-hearted at best: it was late, they'd had a long flight earlier that day, and most of them were beat.

"Go on, get." Wolverine shooed them away, adding, "Room check in fifteen minutes." That got them moving a little faster, most dropping an extra euro or two on the bar as they left.

When they were gone, Logan turned and looked at the wall behind Rogue's seat. She was right: there was nothing there to explain the blur in the photo. He just wouldn't mention the odd space of cold air that had come from Rogue's direction while Kitty was taking her picture.

But he'd like to know what the strange image in the photo was, as well, particularly in light of the warning Professor X had given him and Ororo that morning, about the dream of impending danger to the X-Men. Could this—blur—be some indication of a new enemy? He'd have to be vigilant…and simply hope that Kitty's camera really was broken, and his worry was for nothing.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The next morning, Ororo Monroe sighed into her cup of coffee. She didn't normally drink the stuff, but after seeing the hyper state the young adults with them were in, she gratefully accepted Logan's offer of some bolstering caffeine. It seemed she would need the help: the fourteen of them were sitting at various tables around the lobby of the hotel, about half of them (not just Kitty) talking a mile a minute about the places they were going to see during the countryside tour. It appeared that most of the historic stops on this particular tour had been taverns at one time or another in their existence, and furthermore, some of the locals at the pub last night had told them that most in the area were rumored to be haunted. This close to Halloween, Ororo couldn't really blame them for being excited by the prospect, never mind that most didn't really expect anything supernatural to happen—the idea that something might happen seemed to be enough to get the kids amped up.

Well, most of them. Ororo turned when a gentle hand tapped her on the shoulder; it was, as she expected, Jean, who had a hesitant expression on her face.

"Yes, Jean? What is it that you need?"

"Well…" the redhead hesitated, and bit her lip. "See, this haunted tavern tour thingy that's going on today… Scott and I were wondering… Well, we were wondering if there was another option, see, we just aren't into that sort of thing… Look, I know this was all set up beforehand, but…"

Ororo considered it for a moment. There were traditional museums in the area, after all, and she, with her claustrophobia, had no wish to sit in a cramped touring car for eight hours. "Allow me to speak with Wolverine a moment," she replied, and walked over to the surly Canadian. She explained Jean's request to him.

He frowned, thinking. "Listen up, troops," he said, his rough voice easily carrying over the teens' chatter. Fourteen pairs of eyes turned in his direction. "Any of you not particularly care if you go on this driving trip today? There might be another option."

"Which is…?" Amara asked.

"A more traditional museum tour," Ororo replied smoothly. "If enough of you want to go, we could split the group between the activities."

Rogue snorted. "Museums or taverns… Hmm." She said mock-consideringly. "Well, I'm sticking with the tavern tour, thank ya very much."

Kitty chimed in. "Yeah, I'm, like, so not in the mood for a museum today. It's too nice outside!"

Similar sentiments came from about half the group. In the end, it was settled that Rogue, Remy, Kitty, Piotr, Kurt, Amanda, Bobby and Lance would go with Logan on the planned tour, while Scott, Jean, Amara, Tabby, Pyro, and Sam would stick around town and do the museum tours with Ororo.

"It makes it easier on me, anyway," Logan commented to Ororo, "having a few less kids to try not to lose. We'll meet you back at the hotel later."

The groups split up, and went their separate ways, Ororo's group setting out along the clean-swept sidewalks, Logan's walking around the back of the hotel, where they viewed their day's vehicle for the first time. The creaky tour "bus" which awaited them looked like it had been built during World War One; no one moved to get in.

Remy eyed the rattletrap dubiously. "Dat t'ing gon' t' make it out to the road?" He turned to Logan. "I'm not doing any walking, homme."

Rogue prodded him from behind. "Get moving, Cajun, or you're the first one pushing that thing."

Amid similar comments, and much joshing and jostling, the teens loaded onto the… motorized cart… and settled down. To everyone's surprise, Logan seated himself in the passenger seat.

"Like, you're not driving, Mr. Logan?" Kitty asked, startled.

"Nope."

"Well, like, who is, then?"

"I'd guess this guy." Logan said, gesturing out the window at a man tottering toward them. "Hoboy," he muttered under his breath, as the man came closer.

The group watched him slowly walk to the "bus."

Bobby muttered, loud enough that everyone could hear, "Who's older? This car or him?"

"My sentiments exactly," Amanda muttered back.

"I would very much be liking to know if legally blind he is, to be driving such a group," Piotr said. "Deaths of the tourists cannot make a very good record for him, no?"

Kitty eyed him askance. "Like you've got anything to worry about, Tin-Man," she said. "Of all the people this guy's ever driven anywhere, you're probably the least likely to die!"

He smiled fondly at her. "Do not be worrying, Katja, I will be protecting of you."

Logan cleared his throat pointedly, and the group obediently looked to the front of the bus, where the driver was finally settling himself into the heavily padded seat on the right. He turned around, a wide grin splitting his face.

"Weeell!" He exclaimed. "Well. What a fine delight it is to be seeing some young faces in m' Old Trusty, here. Wonderful to have some people on this tour who can really fully appreciate the taverns, eh?" He cackled. "Well, my name is Old Robert, yes, include the 'Old' in my name, that's what I am and I make no mistake about it, no indeed! Now," he leaned toward them as though imparting a secret, though he was speaking to nine people, and said, "now, I know Old Trusty and I, we don't look like we can get too far on our own, but appearances can be deceiving, y'know! Yes, indeed. Deceiving." He nodded. "Much like these taverns we're going to see only seem to be quiet, calm—what do you Americans call 'em? Ah, yes—calm 'watering holes,' at certain times of the year—like now, for instance!—they go from peaceful——to poltergeist-ridden!" He waved his hands dramatically; the teens chuckled good-naturedly. He grinned wider in response. He was corny, but entertaining nonetheless.

"Now, if any of you should see something strange go on," he pointed dramatically at Kitty and Piotr, who were sitting together, "or feel strange yourselves," and pointed this time at Rogue and Remy, "why, it's just the ghosts taking a liking to you. Just be sure they don't like you too much; they just may not want to leave, and I'm sure that's not a souvenir you want to be taking with you! Eh?" He looked at Amanda, sitting beside Kurt. "Think that be something you'd like, missy?"

She glanced around a second, startled at his direct question. "Uh—well—no," she replied.

"Good, good! She's got a good head on her shoulders, boy," he said to Kurt, "keep her around! She'll keep you set right!" He looked around the interior of the bus, 'til his eyes lit on Kitty—or more specifically, the digital camera in her hand. "Ahh, she's come prepared!" He crowed, gesturing at her. "Now, miss, have you ever been to a place with spirits before?"

"Well, like, not that I, like, know of."

"Hah-hah! I thought not. Well, if you be taking pictures, and they be coming up with spots or glows or summat in it, don't you be worrying that your camera is broken, no! No, that's just the ghosts saying hello to you—or to whoever is in the picture."

"Really? Like, do they look like people?"

He shrugged. "Well, and sometimes they do, miss, sometimes they do. But more often they show up as a round bright circle, or a glowing blur, like there's something on the lens or a mirror being reflected. If they're red or orange, though, well stay away! There's a reason the color red is the 'angry' color. Stick with white or blue, though, and you'll do all right."

"A blue or white blur?" Kitty asked excitedly.

Everyone in the bus turned and looked at Rogue.

She glared back. "What're you all looking at?"

They all turned back, except for Remy, who was smirking at her. "What?" She whispered to him, as Old Robert finished his spiel. "That's just a coincidence. Honestly, I have enough weird things going on in my life without ghosts getting involved!"

"Chere," he reminded her, "I don't t'ink you have a choice in de matter."

"It was not a ghost," she hissed back fiercely, and turned her attention firmly to Old Robert.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"…And this next place is where we'll be having our supper—I think most of you Americans refer to it as 'dinner'—and a last pint of the day. If the weather holds…" Old Robert said dubiously, as he navigated the bus down yet another steep country road. It was about eight o'clock in the evening, now, and they had visited nine haunted taverns throughout the day. At each place, they had stopped, taken a tour of the premises, and heard a yarn or two about the ghosts inhabiting the place, and how they had gotten to be ghosts.

It seemed there had been a lot of hangings, burnings, and skewerings in this part of England in bygone days. This information was courtesy of Rogue, whose new 'power,' it seemed, was especially resonant to dead people's emotionally-invested items and favorite objects. After the fourth time she had leapt out of a chair, or quickly removed her hand from a tree or table, Kurt, Remy, and Bobby had quickly conferred and begun singing a rendition of "My Favorite Things" from The Sound of Music at her Of course, they rewrote the lyrics: "Lawmen with sharp swords and hangmen with nooses / Stealers and cheaters with shady excuses / Creepy dead people made into some roasts / These are a few of Rogue's favorite ghosts…" It didn't help that any time she jumped, Wolverine sent her a half-glare, a silent warning to her, to not to reveal herself as a mutant to Old Robert. He seemed all right, but you never knew…

At about six-thirty, the lovely sunset had suddenly been occluded by dark, glowering storm-clouds. Old Robert (of whom everyone had grown fond over the day, Logan's paranoia notwithstanding) consulted briefly with Logan, and it was decided that they would press on to the next stop, get dinner, and then head back to the hotel.

Unfortunately, fate—and Old Trusty—had other ideas. About three quarters of a mile from the next tavern, Old Trusty slowed at the bottom of a hill, coughed, sputtered—and silently, smoothly, coasted into a ditch at the bottom of the hill. The people inside Old Trusty didn't remain silent for long.

"Aw, man!" Kurt groaned. "Now what do we do?"

"We get out, Fuzzball," Logan growled. "Whaddya think?"

Old Robert turned around anxiously. "Is everyone all right back there, then?"

"That was de smoothest non-crash I've ever been in, homme," Remy assured him, smiling. Rogue could feel his silent laughter shaking their seat. She thumped him in the side; he ignored her. "I think if we hadn't all watched us go into de ditch, I'd have thought you had parked dis…uh, bus."

Old Robert sighed. "Well, as long as everyone's all right, then. The next tavern isn't far, really, but.." he trailed off, and eyed them uncertainly. "Well, I think we might have to stay the night in the village there."

"What?" "Where would we—?" "Like, I don't have my PJs or anything with me!" "Hey, really? Mr. Logan, can we?" This last comment from the irrepressible Bobby, who had wanted to stay in one of these haunted taverns all day.

Logan turned to Old Robert. "Explain yourself, bub," he said tersely.

"Well, you see the storm clouds moving in, they'll be here right soon enough, and there won't be any getting out of this valley 'til the water clears. And I won't be able to get Old Trusty working 'til morning for sure; once she's quit for the night, she's gone."

"Like the ghosts," someone muttered, and a nervous ripple of laughter ran through the bus. Logan silenced them with a glare.

"We are not staying in the village overnight," he announced. "I have my cell with me; I'll just call Ms. Monroe and have her come pick us up."

Old Robert sighed. "You see, we really did break down at the worst possible place. There are no cellular towers around for miles."

"Then I'll call from the village," Logan growled.

"No electricity. It's a very small, traditional village," he explained hurriedly, at Logan's glare.

"Then I'll walk to where there is a phone." Logan gritted out.

Someone—probably Kurt—muffled a snort of laughter at his expression.

Old Robert merely lifted a bushy eyebrow. "And where would you be getting your direction from, then? The nearest town is thirty-six miles away, unfortunately; that's why this was one of the last stops for the day."

Logan fumed for a minute, then said grudgingly, "Well, let's at least go see what's in this village, and I'll make my decision then."

Kurt could have sworn he saw a look of triumph cross Old Robert's face. Then the old man said, "Well, let's gather up our things and be on our way."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Review Replies:

Ishandahalf—Woot! Wow, just seeing a fic from me makes you happy? Don't make me blush… :) Thanks for your comment on my setup, tho as my author note indicated it's been tweaked a bit, mostly for readability. Ohh, and you haven't even seen freaky dreams yet!

Peacebeyondthedoor—Your 'fast with the couples' made me realize I hadn't put too much timeframe indications in Chapter one, so re-read that if you feel like it and let me know if it makes any more sense. :)

buggy-such—Hey! Back. Yeah… lots of psycho teen mutants, but it's all fun. You, too—re-read chapter one, that should better answer your 'how do rogue's powers work now' question. Let me know if not!

Cat2fat900—Yes, and plot teeth HURT, I'll tell ya. Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Sweet Poison—I totally grinned for like 15 minutes after getting a 'Mad Brilliant'! That's waaaay beyond 2 thumbs up or five stars! Woot! Please keep reading! Thanks for checking it out. I know my synopsis sucks :)

Smiley—Your English is fine! Thanks for your kind words, please keep reading!

A.M.bookworm247—Thanks! Please keep reading, more 'interestingly challenging natured' story ahead!