~Logan ~
He felt like running. Like charging straight through the wall and into the woods and never stopping until he got to the far side of Utikuma Lake. The urge to jump up and move was so strong at times, it felt like the adamantium coating to his skull was all that kept the explosion on the inside. He tried to alleviate the pressure with exercise, tried to work himself into the relief of an exhaustion his body wouldn’t allow him.
For a while now, he had lived and trained and fought with the crowd and it wasn't all bad.
So why was it that it suffocated him.
Why did he feel so... leashed.
It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried his damnedest. He had, if ungraciously, bowed to the million stupid rules of this place that tried to turn all these kids into super-bloody-heroes-to-be. (To most of the rules, anyway. Keeping whiskey in his room did not count, as his room was out of bounds. If any of the kids got in there - through the door OR the walls or in any other goddamn way - intoxication would be the least of their problems.)
With difficulty, he had borne being told off for smoking in the house. There wasn’t any danger that Smoking Could Seriously Damage His Health, thank you very much for pointing it out. Repeatedly. By the kids, too. That was before he had asked if health classes also covered major surgery, or would they like him to give an introduction?
He was okay with the kids, though. Not being the didactic type, he dealt with them as no-nonsense as he did with everyone else - and oddly, they seemed to appreciate that. Actual teaching needed patience, though, and this was not a good time for it.
Other than that, he saw himself as a guest. He owed the Professor. He toed the line. Hated it. Kept trying.
When Bobby’s parents finally came to have a look at the school and the people to whom they had entrusted their eldest son, he had scraped together what courtesy he could find for someone daft enough not to notice a mutation as strong as the Iceboy’s.
What little he had learned about his past at Alkali Lake had done nothing to put his mind at ease. “If memory serves me right, you had volunteered for the project. People don't change, Wolverine. You were an animal then and you're an animal now. I just gave you claws.”
The insults that hurt most are the ones you suspect to be true.
And Jean’s death... No, he wasn’t even gonna look at that memory. He wasn’t. Just keep the hell moving, or it’s gonna kill you.
But god! her words had pierced him deep and true that night in the camp. He desperately wanted to stick around for once, as if proving that he could would somehow ease the grief.
Now, fighting against your own nature is the hardest battle of all, and while he tried his best to live up to what he saw as his obligation - keeping the kids and the school safe - his frustration about not being able to follow the trail into his past before the scent grew cold, the nagging of Ororo and Scott about discipline and restraint and civilized behaviour, and the dreams of old and recent pain all clawed at his soul until the walls and ceilings seemed to close in on him and even the sight of the fence round the school grounds made him gasp for breath.
~Rogue~
If you hide somewhere to look at people in private moments, it's called spying. It is not a nice thing to do, not at all. It is not only impolite, it’s also indecent. If it amounts to stalking, it can even be classed as criminal.
But it wasn't spying, what she did. Not really. It was just watching. Her new roommate, Jubilation, did people-watching for a favourite pastime, didn’t she? She did it for fun; it couldn't be that bad.
But there was the catch. This was not fun. And it wasn't really people-watching either, because that was something you did when you sat somewhere outside in a public place and watched folk going past.
And what she did was observing, quiet-like, from the background. You learned a lot more about people if you didn't attract the spotlight the moment you appeared. That was easy enough; she wasn't the extrovert type. She didn't actually have to hide for observations, and that's why she was sure it wasn't spying.
Almost.
Besides the spying question sat another. Was it cheating to discuss a person behind their back? Perhaps a little unfair, certainly not good manners, but would it be a betrayal of friendship?
If you got something from a person, you owed the same: Trust, friendship, loyalty. It was different with love, you couldn't command that, but the rest was just a matter of fairness. So - if you saw a friend in trouble, you helped as best you could and didn't ask questions. Only, she didn’t even understand what was wrong with him these days, let alone what she could do to make him feel better. Would she have to ask someone about it?
He clearly wasn’t doing too well. The sessions with the Professor had done a great deal to stop the different people in her head from roaming through her mind, but you needed no weird mental presence to see that Logan was getting edgier every day. The pain that had settled in his eyes with the death of Dr. Grey seemed to be replaced by a positively haunted look, and he moved more aggressively than usual.
He also appeared to have taken to living in the gym. When he had first found her there, shortly after they had arrived at the Mansion, he had looked at the bikes that went nowhere and all the metal that wouldn’t fight back with open scorn. “You wanna get fit, go running, kid. Chop wood. Climb trees. Those gadgets are for geeks as want to show off.” Now, he was spending hours in the windowless room, and his body and mind alike seemed to go through the same routines every day.
Rogue hung around as often as she could - inconspicuously, she hoped. Perhaps her presence would help a little? Last night though, she had sat over her homework till late, then played a round of pool with Bobby and Pyro. When she had gone down later, he had already left, but the punching ball had hung in shreds, claw marks all too obvious. It had scared her for him, and she had quietly removed the remains and put up a spare one. He got enough bad press as it was.
"Hello, Earth to Rogue, do you read me?"
Oops. The younger girl had obviously tried to get her attention for a while. This Jubilation was certainly a spotlight person, and anywhere in her company was most emphatically not the place for privately watching anything or anyone, no matter how you would classify it. Rogue decidedly called her attention to heel.
Not soon enough, though. Jubilation was already scanning the lawn, curious to see what was arresting the attention of the quiet girl she roomed with of late. Her face darkened at the sight of Skewer-Yer-All pacing up and down the garden walk.
She had a great assortment of unpleasant experiences with all sorts of people, and she knew trouble when she saw it. And this guy was, with a capital T. TROUBLE, even.
It wasn’t just his arrogance - Jubes had never felt inclined to bow to that. But every person she had met so far had a weak spot somewhere, one that allowed her to cajole or bribe or even bully them just a little into compliance (with the exception of the Professor, who ranked somewhere up there among the gods and chocolate vendors and was due respectful veneration).
Only with the Wolverine, she couldn’t find the buttons to push - didn’t even know where to start looking. He was weird. And he was dangerous. There did not seem to be an awful lot that kept him from very seriously harming his fellow creatures. Did he even see them all as such? If she was honest with herself, he scared her.
Now wasn’t it lucky that honesty with herself ranked even below maths lessons on her list of favourite pastimes?
“Come on, we have to get ready for dinner!”
She couldn’t quite fathom this Rogue yet, but had decided that she might like her. Rogue had treated her with a courtesy she hadn't experienced in a long time, and she felt a girl like that deserved better friends than this piece of hairy driftwood.
Rogue complied with a smile and did her best to concentrate on hairstyle questions. They would have to look their best tonight. She was to guide visitors through the Mansion. It had come as a surprise to be included among the senior students who took on host roles – serving in the crowded halls or at the bar, constantly bumping into other people, was certainly out of the question for her. She had kept in the background when they were asked to volunteer, but then Ms Munroe had suggested her doing duty at the information desk. There would be other students, as well, to help with questions regarding the facilities of the school, but the teacher had assigned her what looked like a PR role. “I would like someone with diplomatic skills to reassure parents while not giving away any confidential information.”
Diplomatic skills? She didn’t know about that, now. Rogue would have thought it ungrateful in the extreme not to help out in any way she could, but the thought of having to give information that, with one wrong word, might actually jeopardize the school made her terribly nervous.
Bobby had tried his best to be comforting, but he had trouble of his own. His parents had arrived earlier that day. It was the first time he had talked to them after his rather tumultuous departure when herself, Pyro and Logan had sought shelter in the Drakes’ home. She hadn’t heard yet how it had gone, only a rather alarming remark from Pyro: “Yeah, they’re here, and guess who was the first person they ran across. The ‘Arts teacher’.”
The Arts...?
Oh, NO!
He had smirked at her horror, but had reassured her. “It went okay; no shish kebab for dinner.” Pyro’s brand of reassurance was somewhat deficient. And what this boy would regard as having gone “okay” she had shuddered to think.
Then a straight run to the Professor, before she had time to become shy about it, to tell him that there might be questions about a new member of staff. Her anxiety had evaporated in the amused smile that had greeted the revelation. “Arts? Well, I suppose it makes sense. What else would account for a buckle of that size and taste?”
The picture that had later appeared on the staff’s bulletin board looked almost unremarkable. Someone had done a really good job with the photoshop programme.
“What’re you wearing tonight?”
Jubilation’s voice broke again into her thoughts. The girl’s side of the room had exploded into more shades of yellow than Rogue had ever seen in her life, and she felt a little helpless in the face of her own scarcely stocked wardrobe. “Ah don’t know really. Ah’d thought about this one, only it’s got short sleeves.” Which had been fine in town the other day, with long opera gloves, but tonight she was feeling a little more nervous about her skin again.
Jubilation just scowled at the plain dress in open contempt. “Oh, come on, we’re not going to a funeral!”
No. The short commemorative service for Dr. Grey had been a few weeks ago. Not long enough, though. Jubilation thought of it the moment she closed her mouth again and bit her lip. “I mean... look, you could use a bit of colour, you know? You could borrow one of mine; let’s have a look!”
Umm... ‘Elegance and Propriety’ had been Ms Munroe’s key terms when briefing for those on duty tonight had touched upon dress code. “Ah think they would probably not fit me, you see. Mah hips are wider.”
How stupid; she really should have thought about what to wear earlier. Very unlike her. Jubilation, only half-dressed in pants and a bra and with her hair still wet from the shower, clambered over to her side and rummaged through the drawers.
“That all you got? Chica, you got to go shopping soon. Just leave it to me now!”
She dragged out everything, chose the only tight skirt and a sleeveless top before she could be stopped ("No! That has to go UNDER a blouse; Ah can’t...”) and bounded out of the room, trailing a long piece of transparent cloth she had extracted from one of her own drawers. The colour was... unsurprising.
“Siryn, can you help me sew this quickly? - Oh, she’s under the shower?” Vigorous banging on a door. “Siryn, hurry up, we have to get Rogue an outfit!”
If only this girl was more quiet. And would wear at least a bathrobe on a mixed corridor. And would THINK OF CLOSING THE DOOR WHEN HER ROOMATE WASN’T DECENTLY DRESSED!
Rogue sank on her bed. She felt exhausted before the evening had even started.
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