At least it was Friday.

That was the thought getting Rogue out of bed, through the pitying glances and the way conversation hushed when she came into a room. It was the thought that made schoolyard glares and whispers seem like flies in the wind, because it was Friday. One more day, and she could disappear into her room and never come out.

Class. Whiteboards. History. Math. Science. Lunch.

Stranger danger.

The first two weeks of the new school year had been off to a somewhat peaceful start, which no one dared mention aloud in case of jinxing it. When Rogue saw a skinny freshman in pastel pinks chatting excitedly with Amara, there were two options: one, the kid was so fresh that she hadn't gotten the news about who was and wasn't a mutant. The second option was way less likely, but way more dangerous: she wasn't a kid at all, and her presence spelled trouble.

Either way, Rogue didn't like it. And with Jean off to college, Kurt and Kitty running late to lunch and Scott graduated, Rogue was the senior X-Man on duty to look after the New Mutants.

"Somethin' happenin'?" was Rogue's only greeting as she squared up with the stranger, putting one shoulder between the two girls.

The stranger blinked, stuttering out a "Hello, um, sorry hi, I'm Emily―"

"She's cool," Amara cut in. "She's fine, Rogue, we were just talking about homework."

"Homework." Rogue looked the stranger up and down. "You new?"

The girl, Emily, looked down. "Y-yeah, my family just came up from California―"

"What middle school?" Rogue asked.

Emily blinked. "What middle school…?"

"In California," Rogue finished. "Real one?"

"Well, I mean, it was a charter school, but… real? How do you mean?"

"The name," Rogue demanded.

Amara sidestepped, trying to get in between them. "She's cool, Rogue, I promise."

"Hey, Rogue!" From down the hall, Kitty let out a wave and aimed to join them, a gaggle of younger mutants behind her like ducklings.

"Hey, Kitty!" Amara waved back, then tried to redirect Emily's attention. "That's Kitty, and that's Bobby and Rahne. Friends."

"Who's this?" Kitty asked, in that easy, cheerful way she was so good at.

"Oh hi, I'm Emily." Emily's tone changed to relief as she turned to the brighter, friendlier Kitty. "I'm Amara's project partner for the chemistry lab. I'm new here."

"Hi there, Emily." Kitty raised a questioning eyebrow at Rogue, the unspoken signal for, Is something wrong?

Rogue shrugged. "She seemed friendly. Worth looking into, if she stays that way."

Emily gave a quizzical frown, while Kitty laughed it off and turned to the others. "Stick together at lunch. Nowhere alone."

The younger mutants headed off to the lunch hall with Emily in their midst.

Once they were out of earshot, Kitty leaned close to whisper, "She didn't seem weird."

Rogue shrugged. "They usually don't."

"Did she say something funky?"

"Not yet."

"Regular human, or…?"

"Seems that way."

Kitty frowned. "So, uh, is the bad attitude because of something she actually did, or just your default nowadays?"

Rogue set off toward the bathrooms, suddenly less hungry for lunch. "So long as Amara's got the others around her, I got no problem with new kids."

Kitty changed course to follow her. "It's a new school year, Rogue. There are tons of new kids. Mystique can't be every single one of them."

"Not at the same time," Rogue agreed.

"You can't just scare off any human that tries to be nice to us.. People are going to start having a problem with you."

"That's fine."

"You can't treat every single person like Mystique."

"Oh look," Rogue said. "There's Kurt."

And so the conversation ended. Kurt saw them, waved, and came to meet up. Even Kitty knew better than to talk about Mystique with both of them.

"Anything new?" Kitty asked, because it was a less depressing question than, Did anyone hate crime you this morning?

"Things are the same." Kurt shouldered his backpack, his smile almost genuine. "Things are good."

"Lunch?" Kitty asked.

"Starving," Kurt answered.

"I'll be there in a bit," Rogue said. "Bathroom."

The others looked at her a few long seconds before nodding. They didn't believe her, but they pretended to, and Rogue pretended to believe their pretending.

The bathroom was clear at the moment she entered, just one person inside a stall and no one to stare at her. The stares were a mixed bag these days; some of them were openly hostile, like they'd been at the beginning, some were awe-struck by the fact the X-Men had quite literally saved the world, but most were a strange mix in between. Most people weren't sure what to feel about them now, and apparently thought staring would give them an answer..

Rogue found the furthest stall and locked herself in, bringing her backpack between her knees. She never ate lunch in the cafeteria anymore. Crowds had always made her anxious, but now she couldn't stand them. She couldn't stand counting everybody in the room. She couldn't stand classifying every stare that came her way, and trying to analyze if there was a manipulative longing in any of those eyes.

She couldn't stand the thought of someone in alt fashion walking up one day and asking about music. The right kind of music, the kind Rogue had always liked since she was a kid.

Rogue pulled out the handful of nutrition bars she'd brought from the mansion. Whoever else was in the bathroom washed their hands and left. Other people would come through, Rogue knew, but it never felt like a threat in here. They couldn't see her, didn't know her. Hiding in the school bathroom was the closest thing to 'alone' Rogue could possibly get.

A part of Rogue thought she should be doing something with her alone-ness. Mental exercises like the Professor wanted her to practice, or watching something on her phone. Browsing online shops she didn't have the money to buy from. An action, at least, to make something worthwhile out of what little time she had by herself.

But Rogue did none of these things, alone in the bathroom with her snack bars. She stared at the stall door, thinking of nothing but her own heartbeat and her watch counting down the seconds to her next class. The countdown didn't even fill her with anxiety, which seemed strange. She should like the peace and quiet, and therefore she should feel anxious at the thought of it ending. But once the crowds were gone, she felt nothing. Feeling nothing was only marginally better than feeling on constant high alert.

The countdown ended. Rogue left the bathroom, threw away the wrappers, and went to class.

Economics. English. French.

Tete de cabri. Rogue had the phrase written up in one corner of her French notebook, and underneath it: goat head. That one had been simple to translate, but the others were still foreign to her. Putain. Mince(?). Connard. Before her 'trip' to Louisiana, French had like any other required class which Rogue absorbed for the sake of a grade. She'd never admit to being actually interested in it now, but a certain swamp rat had shown a habit for muttering French under his breath, and she knew just enough about the language to keep those words in her mind to translate later.

But only a few of those words had come up in class. And from the way he'd spat them at assholes on the street, Rogue didn't think it was a good idea to show them to her teachers.

School ended at the same time it always did. The crowds shuffled outside, giving Rogue a wary six-foot gap in all directions. She kept her eyes forward, head held high as she marched to the pickup area. The taller she walked, the easier it would be for the New Mutants to find her.

The pickup van was waiting in its usual place, because Scott always showed up early to pickup and a few slashed tires had taught him not to bring his own car. The nineteen-year-old leader of the X-Men was in a strange place these days; he had graduated while his entire team was still in high school, and with Jean gone to college, he was left alone in the mansion with Logan, Ms. Munroe, Mr. McCoy and the Professor. The adults. The other adults, Rogue reminded herself, because Scott was an adult now, too. She wondered what they did all day.

Scott caught sight of Rogue and nodded, sparking that old, familiar flutter in her chest. Rogue had always known there was no chance for herself and Scott; he'd always liked Jean, and Rogue's powers made her a bad choice for pretty much anyone. But even so, her thoughts turned that way like feet turning onto a worn path that led nowhere.

Rogue smiled, glancing away before that smile could turn into a blush.

"See anyone on your way out?" Scott asked.

"Bobby," Rogue answered. "Messin' around in his locker. You trackin' Kitty takin' the girls out?"

"Going to the mall?" Scott asked. "Yeah. Tracking."

Rogue nodded. Scott nodded. The two of them did a lot of nodding at this time of day. He was usually early, and Rogue was usually the first to the pickup area, and the silence was weird now that Jean was gone. A year ago, Rogue would have asked about his day, things he liked, what he thought about this gossip or that homework assignment. Her crush on him was public knowledge, though he'd always been polite enough to ignore it. His crush on Jean had also been public knowledge, so asking all those questions with Jean gone might seem… suggestive, in a way Rogue was too tired to deal with these days.

Silence, then. Long, awkward silence, with a few words about work and a lot of nodding.

Bobby came out first, followed by Ray, Sam, and Roberto. Kurt followed at the rear, making a full roster. With Kitty taking care of Rahne, Jubilee, and Amara, all mutants were accounted for.

Scott got into the driver's seat, pulling out his phone and dialing. "Kitty?"

From the click, Kitty picked up immediately.

"You got everyone?" he asked.

Kitty replied something Rogue couldn't hear.

"If you've got three on your end, I've got six, that should be everyone." Scott moved to end the call, then paused. "Huh?"

Kitty said something.

"No, six." Scott turned, running his eyes over everyone. "Rogue, Kurt, Ray, Sam, Bobby and Roberto." A pause. "Amara? No, she's not here."

Something twisted in Rogue's stomach.

"How long ago? She didn't text me anything." Scott put down the phone. "Did Amara tell you guys anything about dropping out of the mall trip?"

Everyone shook their heads.

"She might be late," Kurt suggested.

"Or she might not be," Rogue replied. "A new kid was actin' real friendly to her just before lunch. You eat with 'em, Kurt?"

"Oh, Emily? Yes." Kurt frowned. "She didn't seem like trouble."

"Human?" Scott asked.

"Human," Kurt affirmed. "But Amara told her about us over lunch. She knows we're mutants, but still seemed to like sitting with us."

"Oh." Scott blinked. "That's… nice."

"It don't seem a bit suspicious?" Rogue asked. "Did Amara drop out of the mall trip or not?"

"Kitty said Amara promised to come for regular pickup," Scott said. "Let's not assume the worst. I'll take these guys home; you and Kurt, run through the school again and find her. I'll come right back."

Rogue took a breath. Scott's 'leader-voice' always made the details sharpen. Don't assume the worst. Right. He was right. Assuming the bad stuff could make things worse for no reason.

"On it," Rogue agreed. "Kurt?"

Kurt nodded. "With you."

Scott took the others home, while Kurt and Rogue doubled back to walk through the school. Most of the crowds were either gone or getting into their cars; once the two of them reached the building, it was nearly empty. Only a few teachers remained clearing up the classrooms.

"So." Kurt glanced over, voice carefully cheerful. "Is everything… alright?"

"Everythin's fine," Rogue replied.

"You didn't come to lunch." As if she'd ever come to lunch since the school year started.

"Sure I did," Rogue lied. "I just ate by myself."

He knew she was lying. She knew he knew, too.

"Do you want to eat dinner by the fountain tonight?" Kurt asked, because she always ate dinner inside her room now, and because the fountain had been her favorite spot outdoors when she still made outdoor appearances.

"Not really hungry these days," Rogue replied. That much was true.

"The Professor keeps asking for you around six o'clock," Kurt said, because he was too nice to say, We know you've been skipping therapy.

"I'll talk to him," she lied.

"Rogue." Kurt stepped into her path, turning around to face her. "Do you want to, you know, hang out sometime?"

Rogue gritted her teeth. "I'm fine, Kurt."

"I know, I don't mean 'hang out' to try and get you to do something, I just mean you and me as…"

… siblings. Rogue could feel the word spreading between them like an ocean, deep and bottomless with so many unknowns under the surface. Things had changed when they both learned the truth about their mother. Things had changed again when Rogue broke Mystique's 'statue.' Then they'd changed a third time when they learned she was alive, and a fourth time after they'd faced Apocalypse, and now…

… now, Rogue didn't know where she stood in relation to Kurt. To Mystique. She barely knew where she stood in relation to the X-Men, once she graduated. Thinking about the word 'brother' for more than two seconds made her head spin.

Rogue sidestepped and kept walking. "We gotta find Amara."

Kurt sighed. "Sure."

They continued the search in silence, broken only to ask Amara's teachers if they'd seen her. Aside from Kurt's girlfriend, no humans were really friendly with mutants, and the few people who had seen Amara throughout the day were reluctant to offer so much as a 'Good afternoon,' for their trouble.

It was the History teacher that finally gave them something to follow. History had been Amara's last subject of the day, along with Emily's. The teacher gave them a long, suspicious look, and then mentioned that the two girls had left class together, heading in a direction opposite to the pickup area.

"Somethin's off," Rogue growled as soon as they were alone in the hallway.

"Easy," Kurt said. "Let's not assume the worst. I'll update Scott, just wait a bit before we call a search party."

Rogue didn't answer. Their path took them to the back of the school, then outside, where another teacher mentioned seeing Amara and Emily heading toward the town. By themselves.

Rogue and Kurt hurried to the edge of school grounds, made sure there weren't any witnesses, and teleported to the top of a building across the street. From there, Rogue stepped to the edge and scanned the town. The sidewalks were thick with kids walking home, and the restaurants were just beginning to see their early-dinner rush. Too many people with dark hair to pick out, and no one wearing the new girl's weird pink pastels.

"I don't see her," Kurt said. "That girl, Emily, her last name was―"

"She got way too comfy," Rogue snapped. "And Amara should know better than this. I swear, if this is another trick―"

"She's real!" Kurt exclaimed, stepping between Rogue and the edge of the roof. "The girl, I mean. Emily Sevilla. I texted Scott at lunch, and he looked into her. She's a real person, her family is real, they have a real house a mile and a half from the school. Satellite images confirm multiple people living there."

"You… checked." Rogue stepped back, almost tripping as the air left her lungs. "Scott checked."

"Yes, Rogue. We're careful, too. I promise, Emily is not our… she's not an enemy in disguise."

Rogue turned away. Of course they had checked. Safety first; that was everyone's priority after Apocalypse. Her gut twisted. Her eyes burned. Relief and embarrassment mixed like fire in her chest.

"Rogue?"

She could feel him reaching for her, but the touch didn't come. Even through clothes, she wasn't sure if they were on the right terms for casual touches. Kurt didn't seem to know either, and so his hand hovered awkwardly beside her arm.

"So it's just… Amara being a little dumb." Rogue took a breath, squaring her shoulder. "Bad decisions. That's all."

"That's all." Kurt smiled, sidling toward her. "I'm sure Scott will be happy to give her a lecture, nein?"

"Of course. Scott loves lectures." Breathe. In. Out. Hold. Rogue felt her heartbeat slowing down. The ever-present anxiety crouching in her shadow retreated just a bit. "I'm sorry. I know I musta seemed nasty at lunch.

"I'm just worried, Rogue. We all are. Anyone would listen, if you want to talk."

"I don't wanna talk. Mystique is back and we keep our guard up. That's all there is to it." Rogue's breath hitched, and she ran a hand over her face to hide her eyes. "I'm sorry, Kurt. I'm tryin'a keep the peace and be an X-Man an' everythin' else, I am, but I'm just… I don't wanna talk about it. I just wanna finish one last year in this stupid school and then… I don't know what. But I need space."

"Alright." Kurt held his hands up placatingly. "But let's finish finding Amara before your last year in this stupid high school, eh?"

Rogue nodded. "Yeah. 'Cause Amara's fine."

"She's fine."

"Just needs a little talkin' to, that's all."

"Ja. But maybe leave the talking to Scott?"

"Good idea. It's fine." Rogue raised her head up. "Everything's fine."

Kurt smiled. Even before they knew their parentage, his smile had always been the sort to make everything seem alright.

"Everything's fine," Kurt echoed.

Together, they took a deep breath. Counted to five, like they had been taught in order to control their nervous systems. Hold for one. Exhale for seven.

Then, in the distance, something exploded.

"That better be unrelated!" Rogue growled. "I swear, if that's them―!"

Kurt grabbed her wrist. "Come on!"

They teleported from rooftop to rooftop, spotting rising smoke a half-mile away. Thirty seconds into their survey, another explosion arose a block away from the first.

"By the old steel mill!" Rogue said. "Look!"

They teleported to the roof of the Bayville Steel Mill, an abandoned factory with shingles that threatened to collapse under their feet. Dust from the explosion billowed through the air, but there was no scent of propane or kerosene. It hadn't been a chemical explosion.

"Do you see anything?" Kurt asked, leaning over the edge of the roof to scan the factory grounds.

While he surveyed the immediate area, Rogue scanned the surrounding blocks. Very few people hung out in abandoned steel mills, which was perhaps the only reason Rogue spotted someone in a long coat sprinting away from the factory at top speed.

"There! Look!" Rogue pointed, and Kurt grabbed her shirt.

Two seconds later, they were standing on another rooftop across the street from the steel mill.

"What was it?" Kurt breathed. "Amara? Emily?"

"Somethin' else." Rogue couldn't see the runner, but she remembered their direction, and she began to sprint in that same direction. "Long coat, running at top speed. Only saw one person."

Kurt caught up alongside her, scanning the streets on either side. "This side of the town is a maze," he panted. "There's no telling where they went!"

"Communicator?" Rogue asked.

Kurt nodded. "Got mine. Split up?"

"Split up," Rogue affirmed. "Call it in as soon as you see something. Find, identify, call. Don't fight alone."

They split up, Kurt moving east and Rogue to the west. As she ran, Rogue could feel that anxiety transforming within her. It had been two weeks of anxiety, two weeks of school, two weeks of calm, classes, best behavior, and reading every twitch on every face around her. Mystique is out there, her anxiety would whisper. Never let your guard down.

But with the wind in her hair and burnt dust on her tongue, that terrifying little whisper became a roar. Mystique is out there! Her fury roared. Time to bodyslam her into a wall!

She liked the fury better.

Rogue spotted dust. Grit rattled on the street below, kicked up by feet just a few seconds ahead of her. Someone was running, keeping to the narrowest alleys between the most forgotten buildings. Their path zigzagged at every turn, which let Rogue know that they weren't running toward something; they were running away from something.

Because she was on the roofs and they were on the ground, Rogue managed to catch up and then pass her prey. She guessed where the long coat would turn next, found a half-crumbled wall, and dropped to the ground in three quick jumps. She was panting, sweaty, and covered in dirt, but the adrenaline felt so good in her veins that she would have happily run another mile. She wanted a fight, she wanted to punch someone's lights out and go into the weekend with bruises on her knuckles, and at this point she hoped it was Mystique. Punching Mystique's lights out would put Rogue in a good mood for the rest of the school year.

But she knew it wasn't Mystique, even before her prey rounded the corner. Mystique was a covert operator, after all; she didn't usually go for explosions or long leather coats, or drawn-out foot chases if she could help it.

Who did go for all those things? Gambit, because God had looked upon Rogue that day and decided that if she couldn't punch the person she hated most, she could punch the person who annoyed her the most. And that might cheer her up almost as much.

Gambit spotted her and skidded to a halt, kicking gravel into the air. In contrast to his usual slick self-control, the Cajun was rough and dusty. A line of blood painted one side of his face, and one of his metal greaves was dented at the knee. Knife marks ran along the bottom edge of his coat, and he had only one word for the situation: "Merde."

"Well, now," Rogue said, praying for this to turn into a fight. She'd call the X-Men after the first punch, she promised herself, just one punch and she'd feel golden for the rest of the month. "Y'got an explanation in your pocket, or are you just here to annoy me?"

Gambit looked over his shoulder, failed to find any close alleys to dip into, then muttered "Merde," again and reached into his pocket.

"Wrong answer!" Rogue shouted, tackling him before he could get a good grip on his cards.

They hit the ground together and rolled, cards spilling across the alleyway. Gambit thrashed like a wild animal, and Rogue kicked dirt over his cards to delay his grip on them. She was at his back, and the stupid design of his uniform covered his neck and the sides of his face. Aside from his ears, there was nothing to touch.

Rogue threaded her hands under Gambit's armpits and back over his shoulders, trying to put him in an armlock. It wasn't enough to fully control his arms, but it did knock him a few inches shy of grabbing a card.

"Bad time!" Gambit shouted.

The frustration in his voice made Rogue want to grin. "Y'blew up the steel mill on your own schedule, ain't our fault we're quick!"

He popped his head back, slamming Rogue in the nose. She saw stars, but didn't break her hold.

"We'll dance―another―time!" The Cajun managed to put hands on a card and charged it, rolling to all fours with Rogue still wrapped around his back like a monkey. "Get off!"

He tried to slam them both against a wall, but Rogue held on. She couldn't get a better position without letting him go, and her hands were still gloved with no way to get them off. His uniform covered his neck, his face was turned away, and so there was only one way for Rogue to finish this.

She took his ear into her mouth. Or kissed it? Is she kissing my goddamn ear? Gambit's thoughts flowed into her along with his power, and the reason he'd run into this labyrinth.

Computer server room, where the air was so sterile that the coders had to wear bodysuits to keep it clean.

Dust in his nose, rage in his throat―if he'd known the Assassin's Guild was after the same thing, he'd've told the ghost-skinned bastard to find someone else.

Wait, was Rogue kissing his ear? Or biting it? Kissing it? Those were definitely lips, not teeth.

As Gambit's movements slowed under her, Rogue touched the card he was charging and took control of the energy inside.

'A dog with two masters can't be loyal to neither.' That's what his father said when he first left for Sinister, and now, like a fool, Remy had somehow turned into a dog with three masters now that Magneto needed sticky fingers on his side again. But if Remy could drag the X-Men into it, just long enough to get the pursuers off his tail and slip into the shadows…

"Remy Lebeau?" The voice was what gave the assassin away, like someone who had been raised with one Cajun parent and one French parent. It had been years since Remy last dealt in Guild business, but the confusion in the other man's tone was too familiar, too personal to mistake. Magneto had sent Remy against his own damn in-laws.

Did Rogue usually do this to people she was grappling? As far as he knew, even a handshake made her shudder. Was this new? Was it just for the situation, or because she wanted…

Gambit's thoughts trailed into unconsciousness. He went slack under Rogue, the charged card disintegrating in their joined hands.

Rogue rolled off him and onto her back, staring up to the sky as she tried to make sense of his thoughts. He'd stolen something, but that was nothing new. Something for Magneto? For some mass of fear, guilt and disappointment called 'Sinister?' In-laws?

Trouble, stolen goods and just enough luck to get by. That's what Gambit always brought with him, but as the dust settled and Rogue found the truth, a much bigger, much more dangerous reality sank into her.

Gambit had been running from assassins.

He'd set the explosions to trick the X-Men into fighting the assassins for him.

And those assassins were almost on them.