Five years after the human-mutant war and things were so much calmer. The mutants and their allies had won and were now liberated. Everyone in the US either approved of them being out in the open and using their mutations, kept quiet about not approving or had left entirely for less accepting countries. Yes, everything had worked out just as Charles Xavier had intended. His school was bursting at the seams with children, all eager to learn how to use their mutations to get better jobs and his staff hadn't touched the leather uniforms now collecting dust in the basement in over four years.

"Everything is perfect." Charles whispered, trying to convince himself that those weren't tears dripping off his face onto his most recent bank statement. He buried his face in his hands. Oh god, he had a serious problem.

---

Rogue grabbed a towel and hit the button to turn off the sim in the Danger Room. She wiped the sweat off of her face and kicked out at Jubilee who was lying on the floor in the fetal position, panting.

"Chick, get your ass up. It wasn't that bad."

"Roguey, you're seriously messed in the head. How was that anything but bad? We were just rocking Extreme mode. No one does that."

"I do. I've been doing it for weeks. I need to look killer for the Halloween contest I'm entering in New York City next month. A sexy bod is a must." She struck a fashion model pose with her hand on her hip before turning on her heel and strutting away.

"Better work on that ass a little more. I think you've been putting on a little bit a weight since we got outta the saving the world business. Especially if you plan on wearing that cat-woman outfit I saw you sewing on other day. Leather and cellulite are a total no win combo." She grunted her way to her feet, pushing her hips out in front of her to stretch her back.

Rogue raced back over, jabbing her finger into Jubilee's stomach and sinking in a little more than she should have.

"You think you're doing any better? Bitch please. You do realize you're not little miss sexy anymore, right?! What did you do? Put up a cot in the McDonalds parking lot so you can get your McHappy whenever the mood strikes?" Rogue did an up and down scan of Jubilee's body. "Which evidently is quite often."

"Ok sweet-potato queen. It's fucking on." Jubilee flung herself at Rogue, taking her down in a completely unpracticed fashion, forgetting every scrap of martial arts training that was stored in her head. She started slapping at Rogue, half sitting on top of her and trying to avoid the killer legs that Rogue was trying to wrap her in.

Rogue raised her eyebrow before pushing Jubes straight off and over onto her back, jumping up to straddle her and grabbing her hands. Shit, why did she always forget about the super strength? Then Rogue decided to use Jubes' hands as weapons. "Why you hitting yourself Jubie? Huh? Why you hitting yourself?" Bitch was smiling.

Jubes stopped struggling and snorted. "You know, you're a crazy fucker." Rogue stopped the attack and pressed Jubilee's hands into the mat, leaning over slightly to whisper in her face. "You give?"

Dude, this chick was scary when she wanted to be. "Yeah, if you stop breathing on me until after you brush your teeth." Rogue's smile just got wider and she leaned down a little more, inhaling to no doubt unleash another toxic bomb, when they both heard the beep of the door being opened.

Bobby's head appeared and his eyes got comically wide. "Shit, I thought you were just playing DDR, not getting it on in the danger room. I would've joined you had I known."

Rogue looked at him "We were playing DDR. Though, we could still kick your ass at that game even while having sex." Rogue and Jubilee met eyes before rolling apart onto the mat, laughing at the mental picture and holding their stomachs. "The pain," Jubes squeaked, holding her over used muscles.

His eyes narrowed. "Yo. Focus. The prof needs us in his office. Today!" He left.

Jubes turned her head to Rogue, "He's been hanging out with Scott waaaayyyy too much lately."

"Don't I know it. Two days ago, in the laundry room, he took all of my clothes out of my basket and started folding them. Then he organized where they went in the basket, saying it would help with wrinkles. Didn't want to listen to the fact that I hang all of my shit. I just had to unfold it all when I got back to my room." She rolled her eyes.

"What a fucking weirdo." Jubes said as they got up, clutching at each other and hobbling to the door.

---

"Good job, Bobby." Scott praised as the final people filed into the office. All of the adults in the mansion were currently standing or sitting in front of Xavier, bar Logan, who was out on an "important mission". Rogue grinned. She was the only one who knew that the mission's object was to get a year's supply of Cuban cigars from a dealer he knew in Florida. He'd better bring her back something nice as payment for not letting her tag along. Not cool, leaving your southern best friend in frickin' New York, where it was just starting to get cold, to go to beautiful beaches and oodles of sunshine. Even if it was a short trip, it still was a sucky thing to do.

She started tapping her foot, trying to figure out what reason necessitated calling them all into the office like this. They hadn't sunk anyone's bed, with them in it, surrounded by a force field into the lake in months and really, how were they even blamed for that the first time? Pyro had been acting like a total ass and definitely deserved it. And they'd eventually gone out to get him after giving him a bit to cool off.

Think, think, think. Oh shit, had Xavier figured out that her, Jubes and Kitty were running that somewhat illegal high stakes poker game down the road at Ginny's Bar? The one that most of the X-Men participated in and lost their asses at to the Wolverine, the reigning champion? It wasn't just the X-Men in on that anyway. They were taking way more people's money than that.

No Rogue, I wasn't aware of that. But now I would like to talk to the three of you regarding this matter.

Rouge winced. Oops. Busted. She felt Kitty's eyes burning into the back of her head and mouthed the word "sorry" to both of the girls, who pointed finger guns at her and pulled the trigger. Ouch. That hurt.

Time to get things rolling. She looked at Charles. No pun intended. "What's up, Professor?"

Everyone started throwing out ideas, each overlapping the other until a wall of noise seemed to be driving straight into his head.

Jean: "Do we need to rescue some baby pandas again? I hope so! They were so cute! We really should keep one next time Professor. No one in the world would love it like I can."

Scott: "Oh, please tell me you're going to address the horrible dress code violations that everyone has been partaking in. Adults wearing hooker boots and short skirts! Fishnet shirts are showing up everywhere! And Jubilee was running around half naked a few days ago. That just isn't really appropriate.

Jubilee, to Scott: "What do you mean? You run around shirtless all the time. Why the fuck can't the rest of us? It was eight million degrees outside. What did you want me to do? Melt?"

Bobby: "I really think we need to rework the room assignments again professor. I know it was my fault that we moved last time, but being in a room next to Remy is killing me. If I have to hear 'Right there baby. Remy loves that,' in that nasty-ass accent one more time, I'm going to slice my ears off. Then they're going to run away from here and adventure out on their own only to eventually wilt in poverty and die of AIDS. And that would still be a better fate for them than being subjected to that." He pointed at Remy.

Remy, to Bobby: "You just jealous of Remy's charm. The ladies all love Remy. When the last time you got laid, homme?"

Bobby, back at Remy: "And what the fuck is it with the third person? How long have you been in fucking America? Pretend to have a brain."

Kitty: "Professor, that tournament really isn't what you're thinking. We were saving up our ten percent off the top so we could write a big check to the local domestic abuse shelter. It was really all for the greater good. You would've read about it all in the paper after the fact because we didn't want it to look like we were doing it for the fame. Until Rogue fucked up the surprise." Kitty's voice was freaky when she was pissed and if looks translated to actions, Rogue would've been tacked to her seat with twenty daggers.

Rogue: quivered in the face of Kitty's rage.

Hank: "People need to learn no to touch my things. There is an extraordinary supply closet on the third floor where a person can get anything they want for personal reasons. NO ONE needs to poof their way into my lab to get a condom, knocking over my time consuming, genetics altering, amazing experiments because they were too fucking excited to get back to their fuck buddy to be careful."

Storm, to Hank: "Fuck buddy? Really? The prescription for my pill expired and you haven't had the time because of your stupid experiments to write me a new one. You want more little children around this place? You think we mess with your experiments? I would train my kid to jump on your table at every chance just to pay you back. What kind of doctor won't even see his patient?

Kurt, to Hank: "And, you keep changing the location of the closet so I can never find it. I know where the master cabinet is. I use that."

St. John: "I think we should talk boundaries when it comes to food. We each have a favorite ice cream. Mine, as everyone knows, is Rocky Road. Someone in this room ate my Rocky Road. And he's pretending that he only reads Russian so he won't get in trouble."

Pete, to St. John: "I didn't see anything that said it belonged to you. I was craving chocolate. Eat me."

St. John, back to Pete: "Do you taste like Rocky Road now? Because I just might. All Rocky Road belongs to me! Learn that!"

Through all of this, Charles was trying to get everyone back in line. "Everyone, please calm down." No one even hesitated. He cleared his throat and tried a little louder. "Please, be quiet." Still nothing. "Children!" at the top of his voice still garnered no results.

Fine. Time to play dirty. He pictured a drum line, cymbals crashing, bass drums pounding away, with a crazy quad pattern overlaying it all, cranked the volume beyond reasonable and shoved the thought into everyone's brain.

Collectively, they all shut up with a groan and covered their ears, as if it could help the issue. He grinned at the group.

"Now, are we going to play nice?" Mute nods. "Good." He cut the sound and heard everyone exhale in relief. "Just to make you all aware, I don't think this idle time is doing much for interpersonal relationships at the mansion. Dr. Phil would have a field day with you people."

He cleared his throat again. "Now, to business. I called you in here for a reason and it has nothing to do with anything previously brought up. We are in a bit of a financial crisis." He heard gasps from around the room. "Before the war, silent donors who wanted to support mutants in their fight for equality mostly funded the school. Now that we have reached equal footing with our human brothers, we no longer have that income. The tuition that the students pay only goes so far and we cannot up it enough to cover all the expenses. If we tried, no one could afford to attend anymore. With all the training of mutations we do, along with paying for all of your expensive habits, it costs us a lot more to operate than other institutions." He looked around the room, seeing the seriousness of the situation sink into the gathering, knowing they were all excellent, reliable people when boredom wasn't riding so hard on their backs.

"So, my X-Men, we're about to embark on another mission. This mission is going to be dirty, tasteless and will force most of you to do things you've never done before. Please direct your attention to the screen over the fireplace."

Everyone adjusted their chairs so they could see well, focused now that they had something that needed taking care of.

Suddenly, a flash of green streaked across the screen. It zipped back into the frame and deposited a man in the center before dashing off again. The man fixed his dark hair and rubbed a hand down his mustache and beard before smiling and waving at the camera.

"Hi! Billy Mays here! Are you having problems with stalkers around your house at night? Need some delicate information extracted without the person's knowledge? Does that bridge just have to come down right now?" Each thing he chirped was illustrated by some poor human over acting their distress at the scene being described.

"If you have anything you need done that a normal human doesn't seem able to handle in a timely manner, just call the number flashing at the bottom of the screen. Xavier's List of mutants can fix all of your problems. Just listen to this satisfied customer."

The camera focused in on a robust lady with lilywhite skin, someone who obviously had never stepped foot in the sun. "Whenever I need help from a mutant, I always check Xavier's List. If you go though other companies, you never know if you're getting a good thing or not. The last mutant I hired from Xavier had all the weeds out of the garden and the place looking perfect in a fifth of the time it took my human gardener. That's progress!"

Billy came back on and flashed a thumbs up. "Wow, she sure sounded happy. You won't believe the things these people can do! Just call that number or check out his website to see what kind of services Xavier's List of mutants can perform for you. Xavier's List is where you need to go for all your mutant needs."

He looked as if he was going to walk away before turning back. "But wait! If you visit the site or call sometime within the next twenty minutes, we'll double your offer. That's right! Contact them now and you get not one, but TWO mutants to help you for the time you negotiate. How can you pass up that deal? Once again, call or check out their website."

The flash of green showed back up, turning into another man when he stopped moving. "This is Billy Mays telling you to check out Xavier's List. You won't be disappointed." With that, the two men flashed off of the screen, leaving a room full of shocked X-Men.

As one, they turned to look at Charles, who was sitting (more like hiding) behind his desk. He straightened when it didn't look like anything was going to be thrown.

"Rogue, Kitty, Jubilee, I believe you've done an excellent thing by starting that poker tournament. Up your portion of the entry fees to twenty percent and get that money to me weekly." The three girls started to perk up. "Though that contribution doesn't get you out of doing other things as needed by this." They collapsed back in their chairs, all hopes of getting out of this unscathed dashed like so many beer bottles at a cage match.

Scott looked up from his hands, which he had been studying pretty intently why Charles was talking. "Let me get this straight, Charles. You're now pretty much pimping us out to the world, to be used however they see fit."

Charles scanned everyone's face, seeing varying degrees of shock, disbelief and grudging acceptance. "Essentially, yes."

Rogue, dashing at breakneck speed down the hallway on the third floor of the mansion, grabbed the banister at the top of the main staircase and used the change of momentum to swing herself up and over the railing into the open air over the foyer. She spun in a circle, put the package between her lips and flicked Kitty the double bird. She then did a summersault, stopping upside down in mid air, jerked her skirt up and underwear down to moon her before dropping to the floor in front of a somewhat dazed Scott.

He looked at her, fixing her under things and pulling her skirt back down in the entranceway. "Rogue! No powers in the house. And no nakedness. What kind of impression is that to set for all the children running around?" His focus diverted with his next thought. "Not that his Mutant for Hire thing is going to set a good impression anyway. We're being whored out-"

Rogue rolled her eyes and saw Kitty was almost all the way down the stairs. She patted Scott on the chest. "No time to talk, laser boy. Gotta hide the evidence." As she rushed down the hallway she heard Kitty squeak as he grabbed her. The last words Rogue heard over her own snickering were "Whoring us out!" She fell into full chuckles as the door slammed behind her, releasing her into the wilderness and freedom (well, actually the mansion's well-manicured grounds and several acres of trees that Xavier kept maintained for the ferals in residence).

"I'm free! I'm free! You'll never catch me!" she screamed over her shoulder, not seeing the chest of super hard metal in front of her until after she had bounced off of it and hit the dirt. She was instantly surrounded by a box of ice that was in turn surrounded by a ring of fire. She laughed maniacally. Did these amateurs actually think this, this, child's prison could hold her? They might as well have used tinker-toys for all the trouble this was going to be. She sat on the floor and held both of her hands over her head, pointed like she was getting ready to dive, and used the thrust of her power of flight to propel her through the ice, relying on indestructibility to keep her hands intact. She started to smile as she felt the ice give before she shot face first into a huge cloud of sparkles. A brief 'bamph' noise and the smell of sulfur accompanied Kurt's appearance and disappearance, with her package. She looked down to see Jubes and Kitty staring up at her and waving.

"Think about what your doing. This will end so badly. Hell will reign down like you've never seen. They'll be cleaning up for months. This is all kinds of bad karma and dogma and ju-ju and anything else that can be bad and make life suck. Just give i-". She barely had time to register a huge boom before everything around her exploded into bright light followed by crushing darkness.

---

Two Hours Earlier:

Everyone sat in stunned silence in Xavier's office, staring at him. He really did feel kind of bad about this, but there was no other way to make ends meet. He grabbed a folder out of the top drawer of his desk.

"Now, I'm just going to take your continued silence as indication that you all are in agreeance with this plan." He heard about half of the room inhale, probably to start to spout off again about all their ideas, none of which would work as well as his. Not letting anyone get a word in he continued. "That video hasn't aired on television yet. It is set to run on every major network starting tomorrow. Everyone was most kind to donate some of their advertising time to us so we can get our business out there for the good of the world." And if it had taken a few well placed mental suggestions to a few CEO's, who was going to know? "So, tonight, I am posting bios for everyone to the website. The site is being run though an outside company because I don't exactly trust any of you to not do something stupid and childish if you're given control."

Scott and Jean actually looked hurt by that. Kitty, who had obviously thought she would be in control of the site, being the most qualified of the household, slouched over in disappointment. In her brain, he caught a brief glimpse of himself in a very racy photoshopped pic over a bio that read 'Will do anything and anyone for cash' and was suddenly glad for his foresight on this matter.

"I need each of you to bring me a picture. It doesn't have to be displaying your powers or anything, but make sure it captures some aspect of yourself. I want these people to see that they are getting cool, capable, mature adults who are well put together and trustworthy." God surely was going to smite him soon for his lies. He briefly wondered if living under the desk would protect him before decided that God (or Jubilee) would positively come after him if he hid.

"So, go hunt them down and have them turned back into me within the hour. We need to scan them and send the files, in mass, over to the company."

He watched everyone stand and file out of the room, accepting the looks of hatred that got thrown his way with a grain of salt. They would come to realize that this was a necessary step to take in their lives. He was doing the right thing.

---

Right after that
Rogue, Kitty and Jubes shuffled into their room, each lost in their own thoughts as they headed for the photomontage that they continuously added to. The thing took up most of their wall by this time, having grown over the five years of friendship, soon taking on a life of its own. They scanned the wall together, looking for pictures that didn't involve alcohol (eliminating half), stupid costumes (another quarter), naked boys (maybe an eighth) or the occasional animal ass (please don't even guess why there were 10 different pictures in this category).

"Here Jubes." Kitty said, plucking one down of the girl sitting on the bleachers in the gym, rooting on a basketball game. You couldn't see it in the picture, it had been out of the frame, but at the time she had been holding a paintball gun in her lap, her version of 'disciplining' the losers. And the evil grin actually could be mistaken as one of extreme pleasure to those who didn't know her well.

"Thanks chica. That'll work."

Rogue was the next to find one, pulling a half buried picture of Kitty out from behind a collection taken at a random bachelor party they had crashed one summer. Those were good times. All you had to do at those things was shimmy a bit and it was free liquor all night. Cheapest drinks they had ever 'bought'.

This picture though, sadly, was of Kitty sitting in front of her computer, concentrating on something that was evidently important enough that she missed the incoming whip cream filled condom zooming at her head, having been thrown by Bobby. With a little cropping though, the picture would be just fine.

"K, Rogue," Kitty said. "Where's the one from the water balloon day? I think there were a few good ones taken before your shirt turned transparent and you flashed the goods to all of mankind."

"Oh yeah, good call Kitty." Rogue walked to the left side of the mural, grabbing a picture of herself with a water balloon raised over head, preparing to attack. It wasn't the most serious picture, but it captured a sense of fun that Rogue thought would appeal to customers.

She swallowed, trying to force the lump down her throat. "Girls, are we really doing this? Putting our lives, not to mention our fortunes, into the hands of strangers?"

"Yup," Jubes chirped, grabbing the three photos and turning to stalk out the door, as the professor rang the three of them on the brain phone.

"Ladies, I don't seem to have a picture of Logan. Rogue, I believe if anyone in the mansion has one, it will be you. Please bring that as well."

Jubes started smiling and devil horns would have been appropriate to match her heart at the moment. She murmured sweetly, "Yeah, Roguey has the only picture ever taken of the Wolverine that we're aware of, don't you?" Rogue started shaking her head, backing slowly towards her closet.

"Don't know what she's talking bout professor," she drawled, digging though a box and coming up with picture in hand. She then started circling the outside of the room, keeping an eye on the other two as she neared the door.

"She has it, Professor." That Kitty Pride. What a fucking traitor.

The other two girls were the only ones that knew of this picture, even Logan was unaware. And if he saw it, he would know exactly who had taken it. And if he knew who had taken it, he would blame her for it getting circulated to the masses. And she was in no way near ready to deal with that.

She was almost to the door. A few more steps. Then she could get away scott free.

"Rogue," Xavier's voice again, sounding stern. "This is no time for childish games. We can't have a profile without a picture. We need that. Our well being depends on it."

"I can't, professor," she whispered, sprinting for the door.

"Oh child," she heard before a broadcast to all the adults took over her mind. "Rogue has a picture of Logan. I need it. If it isn't in my hand within twenty minutes, all of you will find that you have a strange obsession with licking the underside of the toilet seat. Think I'm joking? Do you really want to bet on it?"

Fuck, she thought, kicking up the speed.

---

Present time:

Rogue slowly rose to consciousness, helped along by wet sounding chuckles and occasional full out sobs coming from whomever else was in the room. Couldn't they let her sleep? Her head hurt like a bitch and her personal form of aspirin happened to be in fucking Florida trying to get fucking cigars while everything fell down around her ears and a brass band marched doughnuts in her skull. Oh God! Logan! It all came rushing back to her in that instant, almost knocking her back into blissful out-of-brainedness. But she'd never been that lucky.

She sat up slowly and looked around the room. Jubilee was sitting, staring dejectedly at her hands, on the left side of Xavier's office while Kitty was behind the desk, looking at the computer screen with horror on her face.

She staggered up off the couch in the back of the room and stumbled over to the desk, sinking down into the chair in front of it, knowing that Kitty had to be looking at the website because nothing else on a computer could ever scare the girl that bad. She twisted the screen around and zeroed in on the bio labeled "Logan/Wolverine". She whimpered and twisted the screen back around.

The bio was burned into her brain.

Logan/Wolverine

Mutant Powers: Enhanced feral senses. Super healing. Six indestructible, metal claws.

What can he do?

Logan is a supremely handy man to keep around. He has increased stamina, due to his healing, and is able to perform any task for hours on end without breaks. His senses allow him to know what people are feeling, sometimes before they even know themselves and also help him locate objects that may need to be found. His claws make it easy to cut through anything, giving him that added 'edge' over the competition. There is no task too great or too small for this man.

Over the top of it was his picture, the one she had taken over the summer when the two of them had gone up to his cabin in Canada just to get away from the hustle of everyday life. He'd just crawled out of the lake, so his hair was wet and extra spiky from running his hand through it. He was wearing soaked cut off jeans which were suction cupped to his legs, showing the tensing muscles of his thighs off better than she had ever seen. His white tank top wasn't as wet but had picked up a few damp patches here and there because he hadn't dried off before putting it back on. Either way, it was still stretched beautifully over his gorgeous chest. He had a cigar clamped in the right side of his mouth and the left side was pulled up in a smirk, some private joke that he had never chosen to share evidently amusing him. And, to top if all off, he was chopping wood, ax over the top of his head on the downward swing, muscles of his forearms and biceps flexed and looking extremely bitable.

She shuddered. The whole thing looked and sounded like they wanted to market Logan as a male escort. She breathed deeply for a minute, trying to dredge up some of her meditation techniques. Nope. Not working.

"Take it down Kitty!" She launched herself over the desk, grabbing Kitty's shoulders in desperation, not even hearing Kitty's groan of pain at the intense squeezing. "Take it fucking down now. He's going to kill me! I've heard death hurts. I don't like pain."

Rogue felt herself picked up by unseen hands and deposited on the floor of the room. She looked up into Xavier's face. "It's done Rogue. Kitty has no control over this."

She crumpled over onto the floor, all strength leeched out of her by betrayal. "Oh God. The end is here. The end is here! Excuse me. I'm going to go spend my last days in solitude, trying to remember why I ever called any of you people my friend while I try to devise ways to take you fuckers with me." She turned and crawled out the door, kicking it shut hard enough to knock the whole thing, frame included, to the floor.

There was silence in every room, save one. The big screen TV in the rec room was on and surrounded by the entire population of the mansion, ages five to 50. (Yeah, they all knew the professor was way older than that, but no one could ever get him drunk enough to actually slip up and tell. Jubes and Hank had almost done it one day but all they managed was to get him intoxicated enough to drive his wheelchair down the BMX ramp out back while singing "I Can Fly" as he sailed through the air into the lake. Somehow though, the asshat kept enough of his neurons firing to not give his secret away. Bastard.) All the air in the room was currently held hostage in respective lungs as the commercial started to air. Each word out of Billy Mays' mouth was another punch to Rogue's soul and looking around the room showed that the other adults were feeling much the same way. This was it. Their fates were now sealed.

---

Billy was finally swept off screen and everyone exhaled loudly. Xavier turned to grin at his X-Men only to have the happiness fade away as he registered all the "hiding a body isn't that hard" looks being directed his way. He turned his wheelchair and left, most of the younger residents exiting with him so they could go about their days, now confident that only the adults were being auctioned off.

He heard a few thumps coming from the direction of the rec room, slightly muffled, as if people were collapsing into chairs and couches. He shook his head sadly, shored up his resolve and wheeled through the massive hole in the mansion wall that used to house his office door. Time to watch for the email requests. He did feel bad about forcing this upon his loyal subjects, but what else was there for a retired superhero to do? They couldn't sit around and knit all day even if Scott had won that award two years ago at the Miss Homemaker of New York contest for his knitted baby carrier. If only they gave away cash prizes... He let that thought fade away as a grin started to pull at his cheek again. Well, at least orchestrating jobs would provide something for him to do and, hopefully, some entertainment along with it.

---

Hank trudged down the hallway into his lab, taking quick stock when the door opened to make sure nothing had been violated in his absence. Seeing no signs of tampering, he tried to find the happiness that normally came from entering this room, but failed drastically. He simply could no get over this blatant exploitation that Xavier was currently engaging in. Shaking his head sadly, he walked over to his desk and sank into the cushioned chair, raking his hands through the fur covering his head (I felt that this needed to be specified) and watching a few azure strands fall to the desk in front of him.

He sat up a few minutes later and scrubbed his hand across his face. Time to stop moping around. If he wanted to keep residing in the mansion, which had this utterly magnificent, multi-million dollar lab for him to pla- work in, he would have to conform to the new form of employment that the professor had chosen for them all. And he was in no way, shape or form willing to give up his precious machines with their stimulating beeping and dripping noises that were his constant companions, always willing to divulge so many secrets of the world. Besides, he thought, pulling on rubber gloves before reaching for the bottle of acetone, chances were, no one would want to hire him unless it was for his extensive knowledge. His mutation would not be one that the average human would find helpful in everyday life.

Setting down the acetone, he positioned his free standing magnifying tool and grabbed a scalpel, intending to separate a sample into neat squares, when the professor politely knocked on his mental doorway. He sat up straight and answered, projecting his thoughts as if he were speaking out loud.

Yes?

Can you collect Bobby please and come to my office. I have your first assignment in response to the commercial being aired today.

He sat there in shocked silence until Xavier snapped him out of it.

You to hurry my friend. You and Bobby only have five minutes before you need to leave in order to arrive on time. I will give you the event information sheet that was sent to me because it will be faster than me explaining. This woman is paying us 1000 dollars over the usual asking price because it is so last minute. Chop chop. Like a light bulb, his presence winked out, so quickly that one might not have known it was ever there except for the image that burned into the retinas or, in this case, the brain.

Still dazed and confused, Hank got to his feet, turned off the lights and left in pursuit of Bobby. At least he had someone to go with him. And really, how bad could this thing be? Especially if it was so last minute.

---

"Is this Hell? Did someone finally snap and kill me so now I have to pay my penance on order to rest peacefully?" Bobby asked as the two of them climbed out of the car. Hank had read him the report on the way over and it seemed like they were going to be the entertainment at this party. Not that the paper had said anything about what kind of party it was but he was starting to get a really bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. A feeling that normally only came about when someone said the words 'Jubilee' and 'sugar overload' in the same sentence. Or 'Logan' and 'dangerroom programmer'. The origin of these feelings? Lots of balloons of all different eye smarting neon colors lining the driveway. And the big sign over the garage in bright pink reading "Happy 4th Birthday Ashlee!" wasn't helping either. He looked at Hank, who was smoothing his fur down, clearly still uncomfortable being out in the daylight like this, and tried to flash a reassuring smile.

"Let's just get this over with," he mumbled, walking to the door and ringing the bell. A flustered looking woman answered. She smiled tightly and pushed her sweaty hair off her forehead before swinging the door open to them.

"Thank God you are here. And you'll be just perfect! I knew you would be!" Jeeze, this woman could give Jubes a run for her money if it came to a fastest talker contest. She barely paused to breath. "Everyone should start arriving, including the birthday girl, in about twenty minutes. Here, let me get your costume... Bobby was it?" she was talking while digging through the hall closet.

He nodded, very concerned that the word costume had just come out of her mouth. Thankfully, Hank came to his rescue.

"Yes, miss. This is Bobby Drake and I'm Henry McCoy. I must confess, we have almost no idea what we are going to be doing for you today. We just knew we were to be the entertainment at a party. And, I also must admit, we are both new to this line of work."

She turned to look at them and waved a hand, obviously not as concerned as Hank was about them failing. "No worries. I know you both with be great. You have to be great. Now, let's go to the back yard and I can show you what you have to work with."

They walked through the house, past the kitchen, the state of which neither of them chose to comment on. Bobby was mostly zoned out, not hearing the small talk going on between his partner and the woman leading them, because his focus was on the costume in the woman's hand. It was bright yellow and orange. And feathery. Really, really feathery. Thankfully, his whimper was covered up by the screech of the sliding glass door as they stepped into the back yard.

"We spoil her too much, I know, but I just want everything to be great for my little Ashlee. She's so darling and sweet and she deserves everything we can give her and more." Bobby, looking around the yard at all the crazy decorations, the huge bouncy ball pit, trampoline and everything else a child could want, thought that spoiled was the perfect word.

"What do you want us to do as entertainment?" he asked, ignoring the slight pleading note in his voice. If he refused to hear it, it wasn't really there.

"Well, the petting zoo that I had lined up called and canceled yesterday and I was running around frantically, trying to find anyone that could be brought in this last minute when I saw your commercial air this morning. It was like you were sent from God to help me. It was divine intervention I tell you! You were meant to be here."

"What, exactly, do you want us to do as entertainment?" he repeated his question, more forceful this time.

"We took Ashlee to see Sesame Street on Ice about a month ago and that's all she's been talking about since then. Now, she gets to meet them in person and go skating with them and everything! I need you to freeze the pool," she indicated the Olympic sized, in-ground monstrosity by the back fence, "and put on this Big Bird costume. Henry, of course, will be Cookie Monster. You do know the song right?" she asked, not even waiting for a response. "I'll go find you some shorts Henry so you will look more the part. Cookie Monster can't be wearing slacks and a white button down. It wouldn't look right at all. Get started doing your thing! I'll be right back." And the she-devil was gone. He looked at Hank, read the shock on his face and felt better instantly. No way were they doing this.

He started walking towards the side gate, stopping when Hank's hand shot out and grabbed his arm. "Where are you going?" Man, the guy sounded as freaked out as he felt.

"We're leaving. Come on." He tried to tug his arm back to his side and got nowhere.

"We simply cannot leave. The mansion is my home, as it is yours. If we refuse to do this, how long do you think it was remain as such? We must stay."

"But-"

"No. No buts. Freeze the pool. I must Google this Cookie Monster and memorize his song in the next ten minutes before the kids arrive." He grabbed his phone and Bobby was positive he heard "you can do this" being repeated like a mantra as the bigger man typed. He shook his head and took off for the pool, knowing that it would take a bit of time to freeze enough of the top layer of water to make it skateable. He looked up at the sun, beating down merrily and keeping the temperature at a comfortable, for fall anyway, 63 degrees Fahrenheit. He would have his work cut out for him today.

---

Ten minutes later found Hank and Bobby, both in ice skates, standing in the middle of the ice. Hank heard a van door slide shut followed by the slamming of a few car doors and high-pitched shrieking. He turned to Bobby, mouthed "good luck" at him, hoping he could see through the eyeholes in the Big Bird costume he was currently stuck in, and adjusted the slightly too tight black swim trunks that made up his 'costume'. This is for my lab, he remembered as about twenty 4-year-olds came tearing through the back door. Several gasps were heard and they all started racing headlong for the pool. Hank braced himself for impact and was sure it was only seconds away when he heard a child's voice, whiney and demanding as only a child could be, halt the other kids in their tracks.

"NNNNNOOOOOO. Mine. They are mine. It's my birthday. That means I get to skate with them by myself. Alone." And little Ashlee made herself known. Brown pigtails swinging and face pinched, she rounded on her mother, who had rushed over when she heard the first word. "Right?!"

"Right," her mother agreed, pleasantly. "Anything for my sweet birthday girl."

"Put my skates on me. Now." Ashlee plopped down in the dirt and raised her foot in the air, crossing her arms over her little chest. Her mother struggled to get one skate on and was lacing it up when Ashlee started kicking out with her other foot.

"What's taking so long? I want to skate!" she yelled, making her mother speed up her actions.

"I know, angel. It will be time in just a minute. There. All set." The mother stood and picked up Ashlee, setting the girl on the ice. Hank looked down at her and tried to smile, though he figured gritted teeth would have to do. He did not want to skate with this little brat. He glanced at the other children and saw looks of awe and delight on their little faces, making his smile real. This would be okay. The other kids would appreciate it.

"Do you want to skate with me Ashlee?" he asked her, leaning down so she could see his face.

"Sing," she demanded. Looking over her shoulder she yelled "Mom. Cookie." And turned back to him. "SING!" she shouted now, in his face, grabbing a huge cookie from her mother and handing it to him. He opened his mouth, took a small bite and started.

"C is for cookie. That's good enough for me. C is for cookie. That's good enough for me. C is for cookie. That's good enough for me. Cookie, cookie, cookie starts with C." He grinned at her and she raised her arms, scowling as he picked her up.

"Again. And let's skate." He kept singing the song, over and over again, skating around the pool and watching the other kids as he went by. Eventually, Ashlee was magnanimous enough to allow the other children onto the ice and they all started skating with Big Bird. But no one else was allowed to skate with or even talk to Cookie Monster.

She fed him cookie after cookie, until he thought he would explode with another one, and her little voice would constantly demand over and over that he sing to her. He started envisioning grabbing her by her pigtails and hammer throwing her over the back fence, the images playing through his brain the only thing keeping him from actually doing it. He allowed himself that respite for a few minutes before he started feeling bad for mentally threatening a 4-year-old. He searched for, and finally found, his light at the end of the tunnel. Through the rest of the party, all the temper tantrums, tears, shrieks, fur pulling ear yanking and puking he just kept the idea of solitude, of his beautiful lab, in the front of his mind. He didn't know how Bobby was coping and, frankly, he could not bring himself to care. This was a case of only the strongest survive, a perfect model for the ideas of Darwinism. You could not help those that were weaker than you unless you were first positive you were going to survive. And this was one case where survival was not a guarantee.

---

"Professor, I think we have a problem. Hank's holed up in his lab."

"I fail to see how that is a problem, Rogue. He spends many nights there working on delicate experiments that take extensive monitoring. He was most eager to return to the lab after he got back from the outing today. As a matter of fact, he dropped the check on my desk and was gone before I could even ask how it went."

"Yeah, but this time, he's doing some not so scientific experiments. And I could distinctly smell hair dye when I walked past the room, so I poked my head in just to see what was going on." She trailed off.

"And?" Xavier prompted.

"He was sitting in the back corner, covered in black hair dye. I mean, his whole body professor! He looked like a shadow with eyes and fangs. And he was watching this beaker boil while rocking back and forth slightly. Evidently, he was trying to further distil a bottle of 190 proof Everclear. I didn't even know you could get that in the US! And he was mumbling. When I got closer, I could see his eyes darting around frantically, obviously looking for something though I have no idea what. And he kept singing, over and over in a broken voice 'C is for Cookie. That's good enough for me'. You need to do something professor. What the hell kind of job did you send him on today anyway?"

"Oh dear," Xavier sighed, flopping back into his chair. "I will see if I can help him somehow."

"You better," Rogue growled, channeling Logan in this time of need. She started walking from the room and threw over her shoulder. "Oh yeah. While you're at it, you might want to go get Bobby off the roof. He was threatening to jump, I guess for some reason he thinks he can fly now, until I saw him and tied him to the chimney. For his own protection you understand." And she was gone.

Kurt poked his head around the corner; quickly looking both ways to make sure the main corridor that led to the room he shared with Storm was empty of anyone who might hogtie and drag him to Xavier's office. Yeah, he did have the ability to poof his way around the mansion, but that was way flashier and more attention grabbing than sneaking. Plus, everyone was on the smellout for his sulferish poofy scent because Xavier had issued a royal decree that he needed to be brought in, at least mostly alive. He was in the doghouse for sure for not obeying this summons, but he couldn't take the chance of getting sent out. Hank still hadn't emerged from his lab and it had been three days since he'd gotten back, evidently having enough of a Twinkie stash built up that he had yet to starve. If Kurt could just make it to his room, he'd quickly pack a bag, grab his girl and be gone before anyone could force him into accepting whatever job had been dreamt up.

Yes! Coast clear. He kept to the wall, not that his dark blue coloring would help him blend with the cream paint, but it still made him feel less obvious. Passing Bobby's door made him wince. The poor kid was still horribly upset from his ordeal, so much so that Kurt could hear sniffling and smell the burning feathers. Bobby had kept the Big Bird costume and was burning a feather a day, to keep the children away. Or so he said. They weren't so sure it wasn't in some misguided attempt to cause suffering to an inanimate object. Bobby did seem to think that the costume had a soul. Kurt had been requited to rescue Bobby from Rogue's "protective imprisonment" on the roof and Bobby had been so shattered that day that there was no way Kurt was getting taken in without a fight.

Finally, leaving that part of the hallway, and the noises, behind, he slipped into his room. He grabbed a duffle bag out from under the bed and started throwing things into it. A few changes of clothes for each of them, toiletries, cell phone chargers and Storm's pink baby blanket filled the bag nicely. Only the truly necessary things could be taken if one was to be on the run. Now, to find his lovely lady. He carefully composed a text message, having to make sure he didn't stab through the tiny letters with his claws, because wandering around right now wasn't going to be good for the escape attempt.

He waited, petting his own tail for comfort while sitting on the bed and wondering how long they would have to stay away. Leaving just couldn't be helped. Anyway, Xavier was bound to miss them, or at least Storm who had been with him for 15 years, and would allow them to return without having to do these stupid jobs. It wouldn't take long at all. His phone vibrated and he jumped, clocking his head on the headboard. Rubbing the bump he picked up the phone and saw that Storm was in the medlab, trying to convince Hank that he needed to come out for a bit. That would be perfect! They could leave out of the Blackbird hanger without anyone being the wiser.

He left the room, slinking to the back staircase that no one ever used because it was so out of the way. Also, an added benefit over the elevator was that there were no cameras installed in this stairwell.

He got to the subbasement and followed the gentle murmurings of Storm, not being able to make out individual words, but the tone permeated the hallway. She sounded so concerned right now, voice wavering slightly while, no doubt, trying to convince Hank that he needed to resocialize himself. Kurt stood in front of the door to the lab and watched it open, revealing a black blob huddled in the far corner. He staggered a few steps into the room, disbelieving that this could be his normally like hued friend.

"H-Hank? Are you okay? Where's Storm?" He asked, unable to look away from the man until he pointed to Kurt's left. He started turning when the door slid shut and the lights went out, leaving the lab lit only buy a few indicator lights on various machines. He heard murmurings in the darkness, circling him. Fuck this, he thought, Stormy's on her own now. He was about to poof his way out of the school when something was slapped around his ankle. Not caring enough to check the heavy anklet before leaving, he summoned his power thinking of a beautiful pastor about 30 miles from the mansion. But, at the second when he body should feel that curious weightlessness that he could never describe correctly, he felt an electric shock travel up his leg to his core. He smelled Storm's calming cottony fragrance and could swear he heard her chuckle before he was down for the count.

---

Rogue was in her room researching- um, looking into- no... fine. She was caught. She was totally digging through Remy's porn stash, stolen earlier when everyone (terrified of Xavier's wrath) was looking for Kurt, trying to find something super embarrassing that she could use as future blackmail material, to be passed on to Kitty if Logan actually did kill her. She started throwing the DVD cases back into the box as she rejected them. Big Boobed Babes in Baltmore. Damn. Too normal. Cougar's on the Move. Hm. No, too predictable. Hotties for Hire. Maybe she could get Logan a job? No, stupid idea. Xavier had already had it.

Fuck, this was not working as planned. Fed up with the idea and knowing that Remy would be coming back soon, the triumphant shout just a minute ago had to have been someone locating and detaining Kurt, she picked up half the pile and dropped it back in the box.

OH MY GOD!!! Pay dirt! She grabbed the matching magazine and DVD, now on the top of the remaining pile and held them up in front of her face, sure that her smile had to rival the Grinch's in that cartoon (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p6bWkIWJw4w, if you don't know what I'm talking about). Xavier chose this time to knock on her brain door.

Rogue? I have your first assignment Not even being whored out like this could spoil her good mood.

I'll be there in a minute or two professor. Have to put something away first.

She grabbed everything but the DVD and magazine that she was keeping, which she had to pull his fingerprints from in order to prove that it was his if she ever did need it for blackmail, and threw it back in the box. She tucked the box under her arm before walking down the hallway back to Remy's room, putting it back in its place under his bed. Too bad for him he always slept so deeply. She wouldn't have been able to get a touch in and find the box's location if he didn't essentially die every night only to be somehow resurrected every morning. Probably thoughts of his fetish got him up. Pun intended. Oh god.

She barely made it into the professor's office, laughing so hard that she had to clutch the back of the couch when she walked through the hole in the wall (When the hell where they gonna fix that anyway? The little fix-it gremlins that no one ever saw around the mansion were normally faster than this.). Looking down at the couch didn't help her mirth at all. Kurt was curled up in a ball, sucking on his tail in his sleep, guess that's what happens when you don't really have thumbs. He had a big chunky black bracelet on his ankle that did not look comfortable. She looked up at the assortment of X-men ranged around the room, reining in her laughing enough to shoot Jubes a quick "Still have that crush on Remy, Jubie? Didn't know your tastes ran to the more 'wild' side. And I thought Logan was bad"

Remy looked dazed and Jubilee just confused as all get out when Rogue, who had apparently finally lost the rest of her marbles, fell to the floor, mumbling to herself and laughing until she was sobbing. She looked at the professor and waved a hand in his direction, telling him to take over the attention of the room.

---

There were days he was glad Rogue's brain wasn't easily accessed by his powers. This was for sure one of them. He looked around the room, taking stock of who had helped capture Kurt and who was absent. He wouldn't necessarily do anything with the knowledge, but it was good to know who was still on his side enough to listen to his commands.

"Everyone, save Kurt and Rogue, can please go about your days. I just wanted to see who would be a help in our current cause and who would need more, persuasion, to come to terms with it." Everyone started filing out of the room leaving Rogue, Kurt and Storm watching Xavier behind the desk.

"I wanted to stay, professor. Firstly, I want to be here when Kurt wakes because I need to explain why I have betrayed him in this way. Secondly, I needed to tell you that Hank played a part in his capture as well; he is just unable to leave the lab at the moment. And lastly, I'm pretty much just a nosy bitch and think I've been around long enough to have some perks thrown my way." Storm tried one of her usual serine faces but it was impossible after that sentence. She just looked stuck up.

"Fine, Storm, do as you will. It is good to know that Hank has recovered enough to actually assist fellow X-men, even if he is still not comfortable leaving the safety of his lab. Rogue, do you at last have control of yourself?" He was met with gasps and a 'one minute' gesture from the woman in question. She pulled herself back to her feet and took a deep breath before falling silent and meeting his eyes.

"Alright. Your first job for the Mutant for Hire group is tomorrow night. There is a newly wealthy man, Paul Johnson, who is throwing a party. You are going to be putting that refined control of yours to the test. He wants you to come to the party and mingle among the guests, dancing with whoever wants you too and generally being your wonderful self. The whole time though, you need to slowly seep energy from everyone so they will want to go home earlier. The last party he threw, he evidently had people there for over 14 hours mooching his food and expensive liquor and, while wealthy, it put too much of a dent in his pocketbook. Your stealing of their energy will make people leave on their own because they will become tired but it will not seem like their host is rushing them out at all. Also, he wants a full written report afterwards on what each person thinks about him personally and his business sense. So you need to steal energy and top-layer thoughts from around one hundred people without getting overwhelmed and confused, while wearing heals and a slinky dress which offers up a lot of skin for people to come in contact with." He braced himself for the blowup that he knew was coming. The Rogue didn't wear dresses. She didn't wear heals. And she sure as shit didn't want to have that many people's thoughts running through her head in the same day.

"Sure professor," she agreed, stopping his planned pleading/begging speech. He'd had note cards prepared and everything.

"Really? No objections?"

"None professor. Can I use the company credit card to purchase an appropriate dress?" she asked, almost sounding like she would actually listen to his answer if he said no.

"That's fine, Rogue. May I ask, why are you so willing to do this?"

"Well, I don't want you to put a shock collar on me like you did the wannabe smurf on the couch. And, I'm going to die as soon as Logan gets back and figures out that I not only took that picture, but gave it to you to post in a public, world wide accessible place. I might as well go to one fancy ass party before hand. Also, you can bury me in the dress that I buy." Well, that was calmly stated. Whatever worked, as long as she did what he needed of her.

"Whatever your reasoning, whether I think it's valid or not, is irrelevant. Thank you for doing this. That is all I need of you. I will give you the time and the location of the party when he sends them to me in the morning."

"Ok. I'm going back to my room. Night." She turned to go, stopped just short of the hallway and turned back to them. "By the way professor, you might want to check on Remy later. He looked dog-tired to me earlier. Something might be wrong. You should tell him I'm concerned." And she was gone, leaving him with Kurt, who was just starting to wake and wipe the drool off of his tail, and Storm, sitting in the chair in front of his desk.

---

That bitch! Were the first words to enter Kurt's mind as he woke up in Xavier's office and saw his so called girlfriend looking at him with so called concern. Yeah right. She had brought him here.

"Why?" he rasped, getting up to grab a bottle off water out of the mini fridge built into the back of the professor's wheelchair. He took a swig of it before glaring at the silent Storm.

She sighed. "I didn't want to betray you love, but don't you see? This really is the only way. We need to pay our dues, just as everyone else does. What happened to Hank and Bobby could have happened to any one of us. We are all in this boat. And we don't abandon our friends, even if the ship is sinking. Even if it looks hopeless and we have the last life raft and there's only room for two. Even if we have to take turns laying on a piece of a door until one of us freezes to death, we will know that our friends are all in the same frigid waters. Even-"

"Storm!" he yelled. "What have I told you about watching Titanic? You get sucked into that world and that's what everything becomes to you. We are not on a sinking ship. It's an okay metaphor, but it doesn't need to be carried that far, okay? I don't have the 'Part of the Ocean' or whatever the name of the jewel is to give you."

"Really?" she interrupted, eyes glazed over in her 'I'm hearing the music and seeing the bubbles now' look. "But it's so shiny."

"Professor, please!" he begged, knowing that Xavier was the only one who could pull her out of this.

The man's brow furrowed in concentration and he grunted a couple of times before Storm fell over in a faint in her chair. His face cleared and Kurt could breath again.

"She hasn't had an episode in at least a month. We were doing so good. She must have found the DVD or soundtrack again somewhere."

"It's quite all right Kurt. She'll be right as rain in a few hours and she won't remember anything about the movie until she sees it again. I tried to tell them that that Celine Dion was a mutant with spell-singing capabilities but no one ever listens." Xavier ran a finger over his eyebrow for a minute before seeming to remember the reason Kurt was even in the office.

"You, have an assignment. And it isn't even that horrible so I don't know why you freaked out. You have been hired to transport one of the Google CEO's, Jim, for the week. If it works out between the two of you, the time may be extended. You have to be available on an on call basis, at all times but rarely will you have to remain with him. He is aware that he needs a picture of the place were you are going and a general direction with distance before each jump. That anklet is to make sure you don't try to escape again. It's tied to your abilities. If you try to go anywhere without Jim pushing this button in this remote." He held up a small black clicker that looked like it belonged to a garage instead of a mutant. "Then you will get a nasty shock, just like before. So I suggest you start thinking before acting."

"You put a collar on me. A shock collar. Like a dog. Then you electrocuted me when I tried to use my powers. Are you sure you were on the right side of the war, professor?" Kurt asked, pissed as hell that his next escape plan, to just drop the guy off the first time and leave once he was out of the mansion, was no longer an option. Why did Xavier always know what they were going to do before they even did?

"Yes I was Kurt. But that war had some results that I hadn't considered before they became reality. This is reality now. Oh, did I mention that I had a second remote made? One with this nifty little red button. Here, let me show you what it does. You, say something against me or out of line. I, push the button." He pushed it and Kurt felt the shocking/burning sensation again before passing out and crumpling to the floor. "You, get to take a nap."

"Sweet dreams. I know you'll be just excellent at your job." He wheeled out of the office, taking the remotes with him, and down the hallway to his room, deciding a nap was in order if everyone else seemed to be taking one as well.

Kurt? Ah! Why did the professor think it was okay to go traipsing around someone's head when they were naked? Wasn't that the same as walking in and watching while someone has sex?

No, Kurt, it is not the same. Because I said it's not the same and I make the rules. Now, time to rise and, hopefully, shine today at your lucrative job. It's six o'clock and Jim has his first meeting at the Lakeston office in twenty minutes. Let me assist you Kurt felt his brain being stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey until the picture of a five-story building settled into his head. in finding the location. You have the image of his house that I gave you last night, correct?

Not like I could lose it, he thought snidely. Did you really believe I wouldn't hear that statement? Strike two. , he let that hang in space for a minute.

Anyway, I sent the remote to him last evening and he seemed excited to begin your employment. So, dress sharp and represent us well, sir. And with that, Kurt was once again alone in his head. Which was the way he liked it, dammit. Except he didn't really know what strike one had been. And what were the consequences of striking out? Maybe he could talk the umpire into making that one a foul instead?

He rolled his eyes at himself and pulled his tail out of Storm's hands (women loved to hug it while they slept), watching her roll onto her stomach. He got out of bed and preformed a back arching stretch before poofing to stand in front of the closet in his old room, which he kept up the pretenses of using as more than a large storage space. They really wanted to move in together, slept together every night even, but Kurt knew there simply wasn't a room big enough to house all of Storm's stuff with his combined.

Did she really have to have all those Celine Dion posters and a signed replica of the Titanic set up as a shrine in her room's smaller closet? Wait, scratch that. Of course she did. She would probably hurricane the school away out of devastation if she ever went looking for it, to find it gone. Every time the professor took the memory of the movie from her, he also placed a block on her mind so she didn't see that closet door. So, it remained unopened until one of the episodes occurred. Then, she would sit in there for hours with the music blasting, while singing along/crying and threatening anyone who interfered with her 'Dion time' with Charlie Brown type rainclouds (the kind that only follow and rain on one person). It was obvious that he loved her a lot if he was willing to put up with her slightly scary obsession. He shook his head. Oh love...

Ok, he thought dragging his brain back to the here and now, I can do this. He pushed aside things in the closet that weren't interview material, pulling out a yellow button down shirt that set his skin off nicely and a pair of black pants. I am strong. He went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, studying himself in the mirror while it warmed up.

"What so you see, Kurt?" he asked his reflection.

"I see pride!" Well, I used to see pride until I was forced to be a living taxi. Wait, yellow probably was the wrong color for today. Maybe it was an all blue day... Ok focus. No bad thoughts.

"I see power!" No, not power anymore either. A powerful mutant would've stood up for himself, not been afraid of a defenseless old man. Who was afraid of a person in a wheelchair? Unless that wheelchair bound man could implant very disturbing trends into your daily behavior. He looked down at his lovely ankle jewelry. Or would stoop low enough to collar you like the dog he obviously thought you were.

"I see a bad-ass mother, who... Ya know? Maybe this isn't the inspirational mantra to be pulling out this morning. I feel like today might be more of a 'Hey Sanka, ya dead? Ya Man', type of day." And with that, he climbed into the shower, hoping to maybe wash some of the shame away.

---

Logan was somewhere in bum-fuck West Virginia (Author's note: not hating, just needed a state on the way back from Florida with small towns) and just settling in to a kegs and eggs breakfast at the local fight bar when the manager thundered over to him, greasy brown hair flopping over his bald spot as he stopped.

"Hey, Buddy! You can't fight in my cage tonight. I know you just signed up but you can't fucking cheat. Look at the sign." A fat finger accompanied by some nasty armpit stench singled that he should look toward the cage.

Logan calmly took another bite of eggs and began chewing. Fuckin' owners were always getting their panties twisted over something. They never had a problem taking your money but they always had something to say afterwards. Having kept the man waiting long enough to prove that he was nowhere near important, Logan hitched his eyebrow up and made eye contact before turning to look at the cage. He promptly spit scrambled eggs all over the bar.

A "Tonight Humans Only" sign, scrawled in what looked like orange sharpie on kid's construction paper, was taped to the door. He turned back to the man and pulled the eyebrow higher while the frown got deeper. The manager took a step back and wiped at his head nervously. "I do mutant fights on Thursdays. Come back and fight in those. It's unfair for you super healers to be beating up on the average Joe."

"How do you know I'm a super healer? No one in this circuit knows I'm a mutant. I keep it that way." The man paled. Still got it, Logan cheered himself on; at least mansion life hadn't made him soft. "Wanna tell me how you know, not only that I'm a mutant, but exactly what my mutation happens to be?" He pulled out one of the newly acquired, highly illegal Cubans and bit off the end. Spitting it at the man, he lit it, waiting for a response. Was this one of the assholes who had been part of the lab he was in? He had never seen the guy before, that he could remember, but that meant jack squat. He was under the impression that they had all died in the war. Or at least got the fuck outta dodge if they had managed to survive.

"Well if you're trying to keep that on the DL, not that it matters at all to me, besides being fair. I mean I have the mutant fights, I just think it's better that they're separate," really, fear rambling was not what he needed this morning, "why do you go posting your business on the internet?"

"What the fuck do you mean?" Having lost his interest in breakfast, Logan turned to face the manager fully. "Speak. Use words."

"T-t-t-thhis," the guy stuttered, holding his laptop as far away from himself as possible. It was pulled up to a 'help-wanted' style page with text and pictures everywhere. Was that 'Xavier's list' in flashing neon letters on the top? And why the hell was Billy Mays running around everywhere on the screen.

He stared at the manager, grinding out a "Where?" when he wasn't immediately forthcoming. The guy glanced at the screen and eeped before scrolling down and clicking a link.

And there it was. The List. The List, featuring a big picture of him on the top with a description under it. Fucking Marie with her fucking camera, thinking she was so sneaky. He knew letting her keep that picture was going to come back to bite him in the ass. He kinda liked the thought that she had it though. Maybe she looked at it when she missed him. Maybe she wished over it that… Wait. Back-up. Why was this online?

Grabbing the computer out of the man's arms he hit the back button and searched the main page for an explanation. "That motherfucker." He read two sentences and slammed the computer onto the bar, grabbing his jackets in one hand and the manager's shirt with the other. "Want my entry money back," he growled in the guy's face.

The manager seemed like he was going to stick to the house rules, no refunds, and then reconsidered. "Sure, buddy. Here you go. Have a good one," he wheezed, shoving a wad of money into Logan's hand and watching in relief as the scary man stormed out of his bar. He didn't completely relax until the sound of a motorcycle had faded into the distance.

---

"Wakey. Wakey. Eggs and Bakey". Jubilee looked down at Rogue who was somehow managing to take up an entire queen sized bed to herself and doing a valiant job of sleeping through her wakeup call. It was 10am for christ's sake. The mall had already been open for an hour. They were wasting invaluable time that could be used to get Rogue's supplies for that night's 'mission'. And while they were there, who's to say she didn't need some new clothes or something? No sense making Rogue feel isolated by being the only one buying things. She felt alone enough as it was. Jubilee was sure she could find something to buy so her bestest chica didn't have to shop while she watched. That would make her feel like an animal in a zoo. It might be hard, but she would find something. Like some new shoes. Or a purse, her yellow one had faded somewhat. It wasn't the color of sunshine anymore. More a dull bumblebee now. That just wasn't cutting it. Or jeans? Wait, did these one's make her butt look fat?

She was turning in a circle, trying to see her ass in the full-length mirror on the closet door when the image reflected Rogue on the bed. Oh yeah. That's why she was here, instead of shopping already.

"Roguey?" she tried again in a syrupy tone, walking over to the bed and poking the occupant in side with a chipped-yellow tipped finger. HOLY SHIT? When did that happen? A manicure was for sure on the agenda while they were out today. Rogue, uninterested in Jube's caffeine powered hysterical moment, rolled over and grumbled "Five more minutes."

"No! Get your shit moving, dudette! We have stuff we need to do! It's an emergency," she whisper-yelled, shaking the mattress. "Don't ignore me. No one ignores me!" Rogue buried her head in a pillow, covering a smile. Jubilee sighed deeply and headed to the door, adding a dejected face for good measure. "Fine," she seemed to agree, stopping her exit when Rogue settled back under the covers. She backed up as close to the door as possible and took off running, leaping from halfway across the room, shrieking to wake the dead "Ignore this!" and executed a full body slam onto her unsuspecting friend. Who merely rolled over under her weight and lifted an eyebrow, not concerned or damaged in the least.

"You know, you were way more fun without the whole indestructible thing," she whined, plopping her chin on her hands on Rogue's chest and pouting in her face. She dropped the act and studied her friend. "You're worried about tonight, aren't you?"

Rogue nose squished up in disgust with herself. "I shouldn't be, you know? How many dangerous, actually life threatening missions did we go on before everything settled down? I just don't know exactly what's going to happen and how I'm going to react to all the craziness in my head. I've never done something like this before and I'm almost afraid I'll lose me." She paused to make sure Jubilee was getting it. "It's just an unknown thing. But I know it's necessary to help the school so I can't just say 'Fuck you Chuck, not in my contract', even though a part of me really wants to."

"You'll be amazing at this, just like, and it truly pains me to say this, you are at everything else you try. You'll get that brain," probably a good time to add a forehead poke on this point, "organized just like always. You know that everyone here will help you through if you need a hand, not that I think you will. And" pause for dramatic effect "you'll know all this awesome stuff on top of it. You'll have dirt on all of those powerful people. Think of the blackmail opportunities you'll get out of this. And, after I help you find a dress, you can tell me every hey-sexy-baby thought that those money grubbing, wannabee richies but failing like Lindsey Lohan does at rehab, grabby sons-of- bitchs at the party have about you. Because that sexy will all be my doing!" Jubes added a hair toss for good measure, seeing Rogue's face clear and a slight smile creep in. "There's my chica. Get up. Gotta get to the mall."

Jubes climbed off Rogue and slid off the side of the bed, landing on her butt on the floor. Why were her legs weak? She shook her head and decided she would stay sitting for a minute until she got her strength back. And was it kinda hot in here? She started fanning herself while watching Rogue climb out of the bed and walk to the bathroom.

"I'm sorry to dump that on you Jubes. I'm just worried. And it's a really bad time because L-" She stopped midsentence and midstep, seeming to realize what she was giving away.

Jubes smirked and poured on the false sweetness. "What was that? Were you going to say something about how Logan isn't here to be your rock? He isn't here to hold you through all the bad things that might happen? How only his royal sexiness can make you feel truly better? How about how you love him and want him and can never be without him?" She grabbed the edge of the bed and started to pull herself to her feet. "About how he's so big and strong and how you just really need some meat in your li-" and ass on the floor again. What was wrong with her?

"Jubes?!" Rogue sure got in her face quickly. "Why are you shaking? Are you ok... Wait, what day is it? Has it been...? The 28th... Two weeks? It has. Dammit, you know you can't do this. Let me see if I can help." Rogue really wasn't making sense at this point. Or maybe that was because her head was spinning. Jubilee watched her friend dive into the closet and start throwing shit everywhere.

"Where is it? Where is it?! Ah! Here, baby. Breathe this in." Kinda hard not to when it's being shoved under the nose, but thanks for the instruction. "I haven't worn it yet so it should still have enough new smell to at least give you a small hit. Just breathe slowly and this will pass. I'm gonna get dressed right now and we'll get you to the mall. You know you can't go this long without shopping. The withdrawal symptoms may kill you someday. Then were would I be?"

Rogue shook her head and wrapped Jubilee's hand around the shirt, so she could pull on some clothes. Who knew, before her friend collapsed over dinner two years ago, that it was even possible to form an addiction to new clothes smell?