Rebekah

I'm still not entirely sure why I did what I did. This is why I'm sitting on my bed, trying to explain to a cat who thinks all human problems can be solved by a good sing-song on the fence at midnight, why I feel both betrayed and worried at the same time.

"You know Two-Tongue, cat life is much simpler. You could run with me, come to the woods."

And the thing is, I'm seriously tempted. I saw what I was in the corridor wall and I don't want to be that! I used to believe in pacifism, in peace for all, in tolerance and learning. Now I don't know what to believe. Everything is in these terrible shades of grey, and I can tell what's right and wrong anymore. I want peace for these people but I don't want it at the cost of their lives. I was sad when they killed off Nightcrawler in the comics.

Now I know the real Kurt, the joyful, humorous, sometimes pensive, amazing listener, brilliant teacher, gentle councillor, happy prankster Kurt. And I like him. I really, honestly do. He's so skilled at knowing when to laugh and when to listen, clever yet not a show-off, that he makes everyone love him.

And I look at him and I see that terrible, terrible picture in my mind's eye, him sprawled out on a rocky beach, telling a girl he believes in her. And I hate her. I hate the girl who meant that the best man who ever lived had to die. Because I already know that is what Kurt is. Scott tries, but he's so uptight, so serious, rarely smiling at me. Logan… well, he's in the process of taking me under his wing and I can't help but feel that if I'm still here by Christmas, I'll be in the same boat as Kitty and later Jubilee and X-23 but he's not… he's not Kurt, if that makes sense. Warren… Warren and I don't get on. I think it's just a part of our natures. He's a bird. I'm a cat. Cats eat birds. Instant friction. Dr McCoy is… he's nice and all that, but I don't think at times he's very human. He's this brilliant mind who gets slightly detached from the rest of the world. When I mention it to Kitty, she just snorts into her drink and says I can talk. I suppose that's where the problem is. We're just too alike. Bobby's okay, but he's…well, he's too American if that makes sense. Peter is… he's so serious.

I cracked a joke, which okay, was quite self-deprecating, but what can I say? I'm British! Everything is fair game to our sense of humour. Kurt laughed and the Americans (and Canadian and African) all snorted when they got the joke, some faster than others (read, Logan thought for a second then started shaking –he's got a scarily British sense of humour but never tell him I said that) but Peter just stared at me and then gave me a lecture for being 'unsavoury about my mutation'. Excuse me, but doesn't that fact I come from a country where pretty much nothing, and I mean nothing, is above ridicule, give you an idea about my sense of humour? All I said was that my fur made me look like a Persian and I was thinking of going hairless before I realised my skin would go all wrinkly in a totally serious, deadpan voice before asking whether they felt that would be an improvement.

What can I say? Like I already said, I'm British!

But Kurt got it so quickly, laughed so readily, teases so efficiently and warmly you feel insulted if he doesn't tease you, I feel that he understands me. He knows when I'm angry or mad, knows when I want to be alone and when I'm just saying I want to be alone and actually want a shoulder to cry on. He knows what I'm going through with my appearance and my confusion, my conflicting beliefs and my fear of what I am. He cheers me up when I just want to lash out at the whole world, makes me laugh when I hate myself. Wasn't insulted with his birthday present, merely grinned at me and started reading it while hanging from the lightshade.

Funny, isn't it? My favourite character of all time could end up being my best friend, despite the six and a half year age difference. And if I ever get home, I'm scrapping my plans to be a scientist in favour of writing for Marvel and bringing Kurt back. He deserves to live.

Isaac

I awoke sharply. I sniffed and I could smell everything. My senses were definitively back. I phased and fell through the floor. I span in mid-air and landed on my feet. I smiled. I was back in business.

I was about to teleport when I noticed I was in a part of the house I didn't recognise. It seemed when Magneto had given me a tour of the house, he'd forgotten to include some of it. The place was plainly furnished with dull, white paint slopped onto the walls. It looked like an ordinary office. I walked over to the desk in the centre of the room and ruffled through the files of papers. I read the names on the front curiously.

One read 'Project Implosion.' I flicked through it but it looked tremendously boring. I was about to teleport out of the room when I heard voices. I phased and stepped backwards into the wall with only the edge of my mouth sticking slightly out for air.

Magneto came into the room followed by Sabretooth. Magneto walked to the desk and sat down.

"You were supposed to be watching him!" Magneto shouted.

"It's kind of hard to watch someone with the power to teleport, speed, and walk through walls," Sabretooth replied. "What am I anyway? His babysitter. He's not my problem."

"Just do as you're told. As for Isaac, something must be done about him. We can't have him running off when the fancy takes him."

I held my breath and moved backwards into the wall quickly.

I heard Sabretooth suddenly curse and exclaim, "He's been in here!"

Magneto swore. He whispered something to Sabretooth and he dashed out of the room. I poked my head out of the wall very slowly. Magneto had his back towards me. Sabretooth was nowhere to be seen.

"You can come out now," Magneto said suddenly. I wasn't the least bit surprised Magneto knew I was there the whole time. I eased slickly out of the wall. Magneto turned around and studied me.

"Where have you been?"

"I dropped through the floor annd landed here."

"You're always poking your nose where it doesn't belong. You aren't supposed to be here."

"You never told me I couldn't come here," I replied.

"Get out. And don't come back," Magneto growled.

I stood in shock. Was he throwing me out of the mansion? Magneto obviously didn't mean out of the mansion, because I saw his eyes flare in alarm when he realized what he'd said. But it was too late to un-say what had been said. I could already feel my eyes starting to cloud over with anger.

Sabretooth burst in. "I can't find Isaa-"

He didn't finish. I turned towards him and I felt the mist clouding my vision shoot towards him in the form of a laser. I saw the surprise on his face as he went sailing out the door. I turned towards Magneto. He raised his hands in a form of surrender. Or so I thought. I felt tendrils of steel wrap themselves around me. I didn't even bother to try and break the bonds. I phased through them. Before Magneto could raise his hands again, I sped towards him and punched him square in the chest. Magneto flew through the wall, destroying it. I could feel my fury and rage coursing into my eyes, begging me to let it out.

Magneto crawled to his feet. A thin trail of blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth. I felt my anger cool down slightly. With his helmet off, Magneto looked like a tired, old man. I heard approaching footsteps. I gave one last animal snarl, and then shifted.

I looked around. I was in the middle of the city. I quickly paid for a night in one of the cheapest, most private hotels in the city. I had enough money. Magneto always made sure I had enough pocket change. I didn't sleep a wink that night. I just lay there, looking up at the ceiling, wondering what tomorrow would bring.