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“You didn’t finish your apple juice,” Nurse Kinney commented, holding up the small plastic cup of clear amber liquid.

“You finish it,” he grumbled, hoisting himself up further in his wheelchair and wincing with the effort. He’d slept wrong on his neck, and now it was annoyingly stiff.

“Are you ready to head back to your room?”

“I’m about ready fer a smoke,” he informed her curtly. “Wouldn’t mind a change of scene, darlin’. That room ain’t exactly the Ritz.”

“Maybe tonight we can leave a mint on your pillow,” she suggested wryly. A smirk twisted his lips as he peered up into familiar amber eyes.

“Always were a smart aleck.”

“I have a good teacher.” She checked her watch. “I’d love to take you outside myself, but I’m due back to help with a transfer and two PT sessions. “Want me to fetch Matthew?” He grunted and nodded. “I’ll be back in a flash.” Before she could go, he caught the edge of her sleeve.

“Ya don’t wanna end up like me,” he grumbled. “Old an’ alone. Promise me ya won’t make my mistakes.” Her body stiffened at his words.

“Don’t worry. And you’re never alone,” she replied, her tone soothing. She felt a pang at the tremor in his usually strong grip. He’d been more restless lately, but he was still lucid and hell on wheels. She’d noticed that Matt doted on him, and she didn’t discourage him from it.

“Promise me, kid,” he rasped. There was something pleading in his expression, his craggy face appearing almost boyish, needy. She nodded and smiled.

“I promise. Oh, look, here he is, speak of the devil.” The lanky young aide strode into the dining room and spied them, making a beeline toward his favorite resident.

“I’m sending you two out to recess,” Nurse Kinney informed him. “Please take Mr. Howlett out to the courtyard for some fresh air.”

“An’ hurry up, bub, this native’s gettin’ restless.” He was already trimming the end of his Cuban and feeling in his shirt pocket for his Zippo. Matt chuckled and grasped the handles of the chair, letting up the brake.

“We’re outta here,” he announced. Matt felt a happy glow in his stomach.

It was time for his fix, too.

They edged their way past ambulating residents and LVNs. “Hey, I’m WALKIN’ here!” Mr. Howlett informed them with broad gestures, evoking grins and raised eyebrows. “Why we stoppin’?” Matt wheeled him into his room.

“It’s chilly. I’m grabbing your sweater.”

“Quit babyin’ me.”

“You’ll catch a chill,” Matt reminded him as he draped the thick black cardigan over his shoulders, tucking it between him and the back of his chair. Logan grumbled obscenities under his breath.

“Time’s a wastin’. Just gimme some air.”

“Aye, aye.” Matt grinned when they reached the door and were greeted by a cold draft as he pushed it open. He restrained himself from saying “I told you so” when Mr. Howlett snuggled more deeply into the sweater, threading his wasted arms into the sleeves. Matt took him to their customary bench. The red maple’s branches were nearly stripped bare, and he caught the faint scent of someone’s wood fire drifting on the breeze. The afternoon sun glanced off the shiny surface of Mr. Howlett’s pearl-handled lighter as he lit up.

“Nice ta get situated. I’ve always liked fall the best.”

“Just for the weather?”

“Not just that.” He took a long, thirsty drag of his stogie and leaned back thoughtfully. “Cuz ‘Ro loved it. She was big on American holidays and such, and she spent shitloads of time in Charley’s greenhouse. She always said there was something comforting about it, that the earth was takin’ a big rest an’ gettin’ ready ta come back bigger, brighter an’ more beautiful than before.”

“Nice way to think about it.”

“She made me see everything around me differently, and better than I ever imagined it. A good woman’ll do that to ya. Funny thing is, I never planned on stayin’ at the school after the mission to that damned island. I mean, it was a school, fer cryin’ out loud! I’d already been around the block, out on my own an’ looking after myself, not ta mention lookin’ over my shoulder. What was I ‘sposed ta learn at a fancy school for mutants?” He chuckled, and Matt allowed himself a smile.

“Charley, ‘Ro, and everybody else there planned ta teach me a few things, whether I wanted ‘em to or not.” He tapped the ashes onto the ground and sighed. “God bless ‘em, cuz I was damned stubborn.”


~0~

“Lemme get this straight. Ya want me ta walk from one end of the room to the other?”

“Yes, Wolverine.”

“Just walk. Nothin’ fancy. Ya wanna tell me what the point of this again?”

“Training, like we discussed. Give it a try.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“You’ll have the chance to do it again, if you have to,” Jean murmured softly. He shot her a look of disgust, but curiosity pricked at him. He strode out of the tidy observation cubicle in a huff. Ororo sighed; Scott shook his head and rubbed his nape.

“This should be good.” John huffed.

“What’s the big deal? You walk from one side of the room to the other. I’ve had breathalyzers that were harder than that when I first turned legal.” He pantomimed touching one finger to his nose, then the other. “See?”

“Keep laughing. You’re next,” Ororo promised, but her eyes were focused on Logan through the reinforced glass as he stood poised at the doorway.

The “Danger Room” was echoingly empty and nearly nondescript. Bare walls gleamed with a chrome finish. Logan noticed various grooves in the wall where they were separated into panels, although for what purpose, he couldn’t guess. There was a strange, recessed light that resembled the kind in school hallways that accompanied the class bell.

“Let me know when you’re ready,” Charles inquired, speaking into the microphone in his console. Logan heard him clear as a bell.

“Fine.” The red light flickered on, indicating that his session had begun. He no sooner stepped out of the doorway than the door to the suite slid shut behind him with a faint swish. “What the flamin’…”


~0~

“Wait, wait, hold on a second…the Danger Room? So the Professor just sat up in that little booth and told you what to do?”

“Not quite, bub. He gave the assignment, made a few suggestions, and then told ya how ya messed up when ya came out. It was like bein’ put through a wringer… now, quit interruptin’ me, ya want me ta finish the story or not?” Matt sighed, then nodded eagerly.


~0~

Then all heck broke loose. Logan heard a strange “SPLANG!” erupt above him from the ceiling, putting all of his senses on alert. He no sooner craned his neck toward the source of the noise than a broad shadow fell over him. A net made from some odd, metallic mesh threatened to snare him. SNIKT! Reacting instinctively, he lashed out, dicing the net to ribbons in two swipes.

He heard ominous creaking in the walls, noticing a panel opening in his peripheral vision. He managed to duck as a cannonball-sized projectile nearly took his head off. “CRAP!”

“Whoa.” John rocked back on his heels, safe within the confines of the observation cube. “Careful, Twinkle Toes!” Ororo reached over and lightly punched his arm. “What??”

“He’s doing admirably,” Charles mused, as Logan dive-rolled beneath an array of laser pellets that nearly parted his hair. Logan’s curses could be heard clearly through the audio receptors and speakers, much to the team’s amusement.

“He’s entertaining, isn’t he?” Jean chuckled.

“He’s amazing,” Ororo murmured, earning herself a knowing look from mischievous green eyes.

Told you! You LIKE him!

Shut. Up. Jean.

But Logan got the job done. He feinted, lunged, jabbed and ducked his way through everything but the kitchen sink. Staccato thunks accompanied a neat row of spikes that threatened to fillet him if he hadn’t leapt neatly back. He never loses his footing.

“No, he doesn’t,” Charles agreed aloud, smiling back at Ororo indulgently.

TING! TING! TING! PLING! More mini-missiles glanced off his claws as he blocked them like a goalie, claws flashing and taking apart whatever the room threw at him. He sneezed at the puffs of smoke they emitted upon impact, his vision blurred. He felt himself being thrown up and off of his feet by another net that came up out of the floor, its four corners drawing themselves together to snare him. He volleyed himself free with a grunt, the impact thundering through his soles as he landed on the steel floor. The rush of air generated by several objects zinging at him from different directions, accompanied by the loud noises and stench of smoke was overwhelming.

“That the best ya got, Chuck?” His goal was in sight, mere inches from where he was standing. He just needed to tap the blinking faceplate by the exit. Logan managed two, maybe three steps…

THUNK! The floor promptly dropped out from under him, and a neat row of bars slid into place above him, effectively blocking him from leaping back up.

“This sucks,” he muttered.

“Does anyone care to tell me what went wrong during Wolverine’s exercise?”

“He was overconfident,” Scott offered simply. “He assumed the test was over and let down his guard.”

“Rookie move,” Bobby muttered smugly.

“You didn’t make it halfway across your first time,” Scott tsked. “Talk about your overconfidence...”

“Piece of cake, now,” Bobby shrugged, waiting for Scott to turn his back, peering out through the glass. The X-Men’s ruby spectacled leader promptly jumped and danced wildly in a frantic struggle. “GAAAHHHH! BOBBY! SONOFA-“ His arms tangled over his head and behind his back to rid himself of the slippery, icy pellet Bobby dropped down the neck of his uniform. “Gotta watch your back, Scott! Not exactly setting Wolvie a good example now, huh?”

“Right. Moving on,” Kurt murmured. “Professor? Were you planning on letting Wolverine out of the floor?”

“Feel free,” Charles offered cheerfully.

BAMF! “Guten tag, mein freund!” BAMF! One moment, Kurt was grinning at him, the stench of brimstone clogging his nose and making him cough, and the next, the elf grabbed his hand and tugged him into a black cloud of smoke. Logan felt his stomach turn itself inside-out as they rematerialized inside the observation cubicle.

“That’s why you’re a team,” Charles informed them. “Your teammates are there to help you out of rough spots, and for you to learn from them.” He smiled at them, turning away from the console. “Who wants to go next?”

Logan shoved John forward, making him grunt in protest. “He does.” Sean chuckled under his breath.


An hour later:

“Wouldn’t mind a cup o’ tea right about now,” Sean murmured from over the sink. “M’hoarse.”

“Take it easy, old man,” John grinned. “Don’t make us go soft on ya.”

“Cheeky pup,” Sean huffed, but his grin was wry as he tapped his razor beneath the faucet.

“Where’s Shiro?” Bobby inquired.

“Doing whatever he does until he makes up his mind to grace us with his presence.” This came from Piotr, who didn’t look up from the sketch he was working on. His skin was ruddy from a shower. Logan cocked his brow high, surprised at the sarcasm from this new source.

The locker room held mingled scents of steam and aftershave as they prepared to head upstairs for a conference with the Professor in something he nicknamed the “War Room.” The women made themselves scarce soon after their training session.

Logan couldn’t get the sight of Ororo maneuvering her way through the exercise smoothly and efficiently out of his mind. He gave her the benefit of having been there a couple of months longer, but he’d already begun cataloguing his own performance, looking for ways of kicking that room’s ass on his next go. Her smile was completely unsympathetic when Kurt ‘ported him back to the cube.

Meanwhile, the subject of his musings was muttering up a storm, peering into the contents of her locker.

“I can’t find my brush!” she complained.

“Where did you leave it?”

“No clue. I hate this!” She raked her fingers through her hair and let her eyes drift shut for a moment. She was still in her uniform pants and the thin white camisole she wore beneath it for comfort. Her hair clung to her sweaty nape, and she was dying for a hot shower, deciding to forgo her customary jaunt outside to the lake. She learned early on that you didn’t leave Charles waiting when he called you to the War Room. He’d informed them all with no lack of irony that “I know where you live.” And he’d said it telepathically. End of subject.

“You could use mine,” Jean offered goodnaturedly. She held up the small pink brush with spiky plastic bristles.

“Ugh. No. That thing would tangle up in my hair and you’d have to kiss it goodbye. I need mine.” Ororo sighed gustily. Her hair was enviably thick and glossy, but it was the devil to detangle unless she had her favorite brush with its flexible bristles of natural fiber and her wide-toothed comb.

“Mind if I take a look?”

“What, through the house?”

“No. In your head. I might be able to trace your footsteps better than you can right now. You want to find it too badly,” Jean chuckled. “More often than not, that makes me look around and walk right past whatever I’m looking for. It’s usually right under my nose.”

“Be my guest.” Ororo felt the faint tickle of Jean’s mind touch, warm and gentle, followed by the stranger sensation of her thoughts running through her head like a slowly operating movie projector as Jean combed through them, frame by frame. The redhead’s eyes were closed in concentration, her posture relaxed. Out of the blue, she asked “Hey, Ororo, can I borrow that bracelet you bought last week? The one you put in your jewelry box?”

“I don’t see why not. Just give it back.”

“’Kay. Aha!” Her green eyes popped open as she grinned up at her friend. “It’s up in your room, next to the phone on your bedside table. You tossed it down when you went to answer that call from Stevie. You guys going to lunch?”

“Not today. We keep promising to get together, but we spend more time making the promise than setting the date.” She peered at the wall clock and made a noise of panic. “I’m off! Meet you upstairs!” She disappeared in a swish of white hair while Jean resumed putting on her lipstick.

I hope no one sees me looking like Hope diggin’ potatoes, she griped to herself. She no sooner rounded the corner than she collided with something large and very, very solid. “Oof!”

“Oh! Sorry, I’m in a rush,” Ororo cried, meeting John’s look of amusement and feeling more flustered. His eyes were riveted by her disheveled, tousled hair and the gleam of sweat remaining on her smooth brown skin. She crossed her arms over her chest to hide the sweat triangles that formed beneath her breasts. “Didn’t see you coming.”

“No complaints, sweetheart,” he shrugged. The corner of his mouth quirked up slyly, and he almost imperceptibly widened his stance, as though to block her exit. “No complaints at all.” She read amusement mingled with appreciation in those deep, dark eyes.

“I’ll just get out of your way.” She ducked to move around him. He feinted into her path.

“You’re not in my way.”

You’re in mine, then. “I need to get ready for the meeting.”

“Just the meeting?” he drawled smoothly. “Nothing else special?”

“Nothing yet.”

“I could help you with that.”

“My day’s still on the table.” She stifled a sigh. “I’m a mess. I need something from my room…”

“Like I said, beautiful, no complaints.” He closed in on her, forcing her to crane her neck to meet his eyes. She felt heat radiating from him. John Proudstar was brash, virile and outspoken, and he enjoyed throwing himself out there, taking risks. Taking what he wanted and the challenge of getting it was his favorite risk on the list. “I can think of more fun ways of makin’ a mess, if you didn’t mind company.”

One finely arched, ivory brow rose in the air. “I don’t have a lot of time to discuss the details with you, Mr. Proudstar.”

“I’m pretty open. When’d you wanna make some time?” Her blue eyes were cool, not icy enough to pierce him. His gaze never wavered as his fingers plucked a lock of her hair from behind her shoulder, twirling it in a coil before letting it drop over her breast. A hot flush bloomed in her cheeks, both at the contact and at his nerve, and she felt slightly uncomfortable. And he was enjoying it, the scamp!

“What are you suggesting?”

“Nothing. No suggestions. Just a plan.”

“A plan to what?”

He answered by whipping an arm around her waist and tugging her against him, fitting her contours against his solid bulk and stealing a lazy, thorough kiss. His lips were hard, demanding. She “MMMPPHH!”’ed indignantly into his mouth, even though her body responded to him, to his very male taste and heat. Her hands weren’t obeying her brain’s commands to stop until she heard footsteps behind her and a sharp intake of breath.

ZAP! Before she could stop it, she released a flare of lightning from her palms, sizzling audibly as it found its mark. “SHIT! OW!”

SNIKT.

“What the FLAMIN’!” Ororo’s hands fisted and shoved him back sharply, but she looked both dazed and shaken. She spun and met the astonished looks of Piotr, Kurt, Sean and Logan, darkening her cheeks even further.

What’s the hold up? What did I miss?

Jean, this is NOT the time.

That means I missed something! What happened? Ororo had a visual of Jean bouncing up and down in her seat.

Not NOW.

“We interruptin’ somethin’, lass?”

“I’d say we were,” Kurt murmured dryly, rubbing his nape and smiling at his two-toed feet. Piotr cleared his throat.

Logan, on the other hand, stood there, veins working in his jaw like someone got his goat. His glare was accusing. John and Ororo were its targets. SNAKT! His knuckles convulsed a moment before he shoved his hands into his pockets. John challenged Logan’s stiff, broad stance with a leer.

“Dontcha both have a meeting ta go ta like the rest of us?”

“I’ll be on my way directly,” Ororo declared. “If you’re through holding me up.” She directed this to John. “Kurt. Sean. Piotr.” She nodded to Logan. “I’ll see you all upstairs.” She took the thunderous scowl and the questions burning in his black eyes with her all the way to her loft.

When she was out of earshot, John was just about to follow Sean into the elevator when he felt another shove, more insistent and with more back put into it.

“What the fuck was that all about?”

“You’ve got that fancy ass, enhanced vision, squirt. Use it and figure it out!”

“She didn’t look like she asked for it.”

“Woman that fine makes it hard for me to say no, whether she asked for it or not.”

“Next time ya wait til she does ask, asshole.”

“Next time, beat me to the punch, runt. Piss, or get off the damned pot,” John huffed, his tone doing nothing to smooth Logan’s hackles. Neither did the stubborn set of his jaw as his smirk gave way to a glare. “Your panties aren’t in a bunch that I took a little taste. They’re twisted up because you weren’t me.” Logan’s face turned stony, his fist just beginning to clench. His claws itched beneath his flesh, craving the five minutes it’d take to fillet him. His whole body tensed at the stiff clap of Piotr’s meaty hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t do that shit again.” Sean and Kurt both looked uneasy. “And the only thing ya better be doin’ with yer mouth the next time ya see Ororo is apologizin’ fer takin’ liberties.”

“Fine. I’ll apologize, but I don’t regret it for a damned second.”


Men! Cocky, arrogant…ooooooooooh! GODDESS! Why on earth did he DO that??? Bright Lady help me from knocking him into next week!

Fess up.

No.

C’mon. You know you want to. I’m gonna break out into a round of that song you hate until you tell meeeeee…

You wouldn’t dare…

Raindrops keep fallin’ on my head…

That’s just plain wrong, sister. Stop that. Fine! she fumed. Ever have one of those moments where you just want to sink into the floor?

Sounds like it was a doozy.

I can sum it up in four words. John. Kiss. Logan saw.

Oh, crap.

Exactly.

What’d you do?

Slipped Proudstar about fifty volts, turned tail and ran.

Ahhhh.

I’m not happy about this. Not happy at all.

…was it a decent kiss?

Errrgh…yes. Damn it. Still, that’s not the point.

Whaddever. You’re forgetting something, sweetie pie. How did Logan react?

Take a look. Ororo projected the moment at her full force, including the myriad feelings and her embarrassment.

Oh, Lord. Don’t worry, baby. Take this one consolation prize to rock you to bed tonight, Ororo felt Jean smirk as she added even though John might want that privilege.

And what, pray tell, is that?

At least you got Logan’s attention.

You’re not helping.

I know. You love me anyway.

I know. Brat.

Ororo finished her ablutions in the loft’s adjoining bath, muttering under her breath the entire time.


~0~

“Man. So Proudstar was trying to step out with your woman?”

“Damned straight! I was ready ta carve him up like a Christmas turkey. Don’t get me wrong. John wasn’t a bad man. I almost liked him, at least til he pulled that stunt. But he was right. I was pissed as hell that he’d gotten that close before me and kissed her. If ya saw her, boy, ya’d know exactly how I felt. I saw red. That was it, in a nutshell. Ya might as well be tearin’ a bone away from a dog, gettin’ between me and the woman who was makin’ me lose sleep.”

“Did he at least get his butt kicked in the Danger Room?” he pried hopefully. Logan’s grin was feral as he puffed on his cigar.

“Yup. That wasn’t gonna be the last time we’d butt heads. That big ass school was still too small for the both of us.”

“The Danger Room sounds freakin' cool! Kinda like the holodeck on the old Star Trek show! So, what’d Ororo think of him?”

“At that point, it was kinda hard ta tell. All I knew was that I wanted her ta think about me. And I damned well didn’t wanna share.”


~0~


Moira was fiddling with a pan of lemon squares, cutting them into neat diamonds on the counter when Sean took a shortcut through the kitchen.

She was beautiful, her good looks girlish and saucy despite a plain, sensible khaki dress and her customary green apron printed with apples. The heat from the stove left her cheeks slightly rosy, and she fanned herself with an oven mitt, the air shift stirring her auburn bangs from her forehead.

“Ye look knackered, lass.”

“What’s it to ye, laddie?” Sean’s lips twisted.

“Just observin’, Moira.”

“Yuir running late for Charley. Now hop, I’ve work tae finish here before you heathens set upon it. Lunch is at one,” she reminded him, shooing him with a dishtowel.

She wasn’t expecting the sharp twist of his hand, coiling the other end of it around his fist. She gasped and jerked forward with the momentum of his yank. “Sean! Are ye DAFT??” With one foot he snagged the run of a kitchen stool and pulled it toward them before nimbly shoving her onto it.

“Take a load off, and ye might not feel so much like snappin’ me head off.”

“Och,” she muttered, preparing to take umbrage with the towel, once he released it. He hummed a song under his breath as he crossed to the refrigerator and pulled out the pitcher of iced tea. “Bossy pup…” He moved efficiently from cabinet to cabinet, tugging out plates and glasses as he went. He paused to fill one with the tea and came back to press it into her hand. “Thanks, Sean.”

“Yuir welcome, colleen,” he replied. His tone was husky and deep, and those blasted eyes of his, those crystal clear, soulful blue eyes that crinkled at the corners were twinkling at her. Twinkling, her brain nagged. Och… “And yuir a fine mess.”

“Hmmph. Move yuir rump, Mr. O’Rourke.” The towel cracked through the air and hit its target, the rump in question, nearly making him drop the plates.

“Gladly. Let me know if ye need me t’move anythin’ else, lass.” He balanced the plates and used his free hand to free a tendril of her hair that was stuck to her cheek by a small blob of lemon filling. His fleeting touch made her tingle, and her stomach performed a small flip. He whistled the rest of his tune as he made his way to the dining room with the dishes. Behind him, she smiled before taking a welcome sip of tea.

Charles watched his assembled students, old and new, struggling to arrange themselves around the large oval table as he assembled his motes with some amusement.

Kurt and Piotr sat easily enough; Kurt leaned forward slightly in his seat to allow his tail comfortable room to flick as he needed. Scott and Jean huddled together, hands entwined and silent, their eyes giving away their telepathic chatter. Alex and Warren drifted on the periphery, muttering between them and looking standoffish. Shiro was doing an admirable job of ignoring everyone, taking the seat closest to the door.

Warren’s wings bristled as Logan strode into the room, with John hot on his heels. They held an odd staring contest of sorts, both drifting around the empty chairs and pacing, if Charles had to describe it. And…waiting? Hmmmm. Warren and Bobby both took that opportunity to move away from the door and take their seats next to Alex.

Ororo swept in and zeroed in on the empty seat next to Jean, shuffling around Warren’s wings.

Two heavy sets of footsteps thudded around the table, making a beeline to fill the seat to her right. Ororo’s eyes became saucers. Time stood still for one breathless second.

Lorna’s sheepish “Am I late?” was greeted by a chorus of hello’s and cut off on a startled “What the heck…oof!” Jean’s telekinetic shove threw her off course from the empty spot beside Alex. “Okaaaayyy…I’ll just be sitting here,” she muttered, giving Jean and Ororo an odd look. She settled herself next to Ororo and met her grateful look with questions in her eyes.

Nice save.

You owe me.

Would one of you ladies like to explain what this little song and dance is all about? And may I start my meeting now? Charles leaned back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the table.

“Heh. Right.” Scott elbowed Jean. She elbowed him back.

“Don’t be strangers, gentlemen. Sit,” Charles insisted. His expression was bland despite weary impatience in his voice.

“Sorry m’so late, Professor,” Sean barked as he entered the room. He took the middle seat of the remaining three. John and Logan promptly flanked him, creating a tight squeeze. “Er, hello lads.”

“The sooner we get done here, the sooner we eat,” Bobby informed him.

“What’re we having, anyway?” Warren wondered.

“Lemon squares,” Sean replied, then bit his tongue. Logan’s shoulders shook.

“Then let’s begin. I’ve a few announcements to make regarding the team’s roster. A few of you have approached me regarding your ongoing tenure at the school. I know for some of you, that’s coming to an end, though I’m reluctant to see you go. Alex and Lorna will be relocating themselves to New Mexico and will assume inactive status.” Ororo and Jean made sounds of disappointment. Lorna offered them a contrite look and patted Ororo’s hand.

“There’s never any girls here,” Jean complained.

“We’ll miss you. But it’s time to move on,” Alex mused. “And time to hang up the tights. We’re both going back to school.”

“Nice.” Scott gave him the thumbs up.

“Robert and Warren have also announced that they plan on furthering career choices that they both put on hold over the past few months.”

“It’s time for business suits, a Volvo, and a mortgage,” Bobby admitted. “And time for Wings here to count his millions and jump on board with his dad. Must be nice,” he added sourly, just for Warren’s benefit. Warren kicked him under the table.

“And last but certainly not least, Shiro has mentioned that he, too, would like to return home to Japan to his family.” Several sets of eyes found him sulking in the back. He shrugged.

“I’d like to say that’s my main reason for wanting to leave. I’d be lying.”

“You’ve been a valuable asset to the team. We hope that when you leave this school, you’re leaving behind friends who wish you the best,” Charles offered.

“You’re welcome to change your mind.” Ororo thought she detected a warmth in his eyes, just for a second, before it passed. He nodded his reply.

“We might even hook back up with Hank,” Warren interjected. “We miss working with Blue.”

“Give him my best.” Charles then opened up his laptop and keyed in a few commands. A holographic image blinked open, hovering above the conference table. The image shimmered, revealing a young teenaged girl and a short screen of statistics. “You might not have to worry about not having enough females in this school, Jean. You’re looking at our next prospective student. Her name’s Katherine Pryde. She lives in Deerfield, Chicago. Her mutation emerged recently on Cerebro, and I’ve logged her profile in my data banks. I’ve contacted her parents and arranged a go-see to meet them next week.”

“That’s wonderful, Professor. How old is she?” Jean inquired.

“Thirteen.”

“Just a pup,” Logan chided him. “She gonna be out on missions with the rest of us? Do ya recruit kids ta fight the good fight?”

“Not in Katherine’s case, Logan. My goal is to help her use her abilities. Not everyone who passes through these doors becomes an X-Man.”

“Amen ta that.” He felt Ororo’s heavy stare, but she said nothing.

“I’d like some of you to accompany me.”

“Count me in.”

“Thank you, Ororo.”

“Make that two,” Piotr chimed in. He studied her image intently, admiring her wiry strength and her pixieish features. Large, walnut brown eyes gleamed with intelligence. He liked her already.

“Make a little more room on the welcome wagon,” Logan ordered. Charles stared at him a moment.

“Fine. I don’t see why not.”

“Me either,” John sized Logan up knowingly. This time, Ororo watched them both.

This, Jean gloated, is getting good.


Elsewhere:

“Excellent work, Pierce. I have to commend your intel on getting us this feed.”

“It was no trouble at all, my queen.”

“Don’t preen so soon, Pierce.” A formidable looking man stood from his seat, an ornate King Louis XV chair with a dark finish, and strode toward the white projector screen. He pointed at the image of the girl covetously. “She’s an ideal candidate. Smart. Gifted, even. She has unlimited potential.”

“Potential I intend to put to good use, Sebastian.”

“I know you will, Emma.” She tapped a cigarette from its pearl enameled case and smiled.





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