Scott leaned back in his chair, a manouver which allowed him to look out his office door and across the hall to the foyer. "Annie, what time is it?"

"It's eight o'clock. Right when you told me to be here."

Scott sighed. "I MEANT in the morning, Annie."

She giggled, bouncing into his field of view. "But you didn't SAY in the morning."

"I said in the morning LAST time. And the time before. And the time before that." Scott couldn't help grinning at her. "You know I MEANT it this time."

"Yeah, but you didn't SAY it," she pointed out, grinning back. "Anyway, we were going to come back in the morning, but we found something really interesting yesterday."

"Another car that almost goes?" Scott asked resignedly.

"No, much better." She pointed out of his field of vision. "Come and see!"

Resigned to his fate...and fairly sure that whatever she'd brought back this time had to be at least as interesting as the Cadillac that was very nearly fixed now...Scott pushed back his chair and strolled out into the foyer. "What did...you..."

A tiny, scrawny child was clinging to Creed's hand, wearing what Scott was fairly sure was a pair of Annie's overalls (much too big) and her least-favourite pink t-shirt. She was very obviously a mutant, and even allowing for malnutrition and poor growth, she couldn't be more than eleven. "We found a kid," Annie said proudly.

"I can see that." Scott hunkered down slowly, gazing at the little girl. "Hi. I'm Scott Summers."

She sidled a little closer, still holding tightly to Creed's hand. "Hi," she whispered.

"I told her about you," Annie said helpfully. "He's the nice one, Clarice."

Scott smiled his friendliest smile. "Clarice, huh? That's a pretty name."

She smiled shyly. "Thank you," she said in that same tiny voice.

Annie tugged on Scott's sleeve. "Mr. Summers? Can she stay?"

Scott looked at the tiny, helpless-looking child, and let sentimentality cloud his judgement. "Of course she can," he said firmly. "We wouldn't dream of sending her away."

Clarice's face lit up like a small, pale candle, and Scott smiled again. "Annie, would you mind if Clarice shared your room?" he asked, squinching around to look at her.

"I was gonna ask if she could." Annie gave him one of her comically serious looks that always put him in mind of a baby monkey. "I think it's fostering bad feeling that I have a room to myself."

Scott nodded, equally seriously. It was absolutely imperative that you not laugh at her when she was like this. "That's true. And I can trust you to look after Clarice and make sure she knows her way around and such, right?"

Annie nodded, smiling proudly. "I can do that."

"Good." Scott finally had to turn his attention to Creed. "Uh...thanks for bringing Clarice in," he said stiffly.

Creed grunted, scowling a bit. "Was Annie's idea," he said gruffly.

Well, he'd guessed THAT much... "Thanks anyway," he said as politely as he could, and turned back to Clarice. "Clarice, do you have any family you need to contact?"

She shook her head violently, and Annie put a comforting arm around her shoulders. "It's okay," she said comfortingly. "Mr. Summers doesn't have any family, either, so he understands these things."

Scott nodded, touching the thin shoulder gently as he stood up. "Okay. Have you eaten?"

"Dad bought us some chicken," Annie said happily, gazing adoringly up at her father. Scott firmly squashed a tiny twinge of jealousy. Just because he felt like he had a special bond with Annie didn't mean he got to be jealous of her own father. "Hey, Mr. Summers, did you know that you can get it in all different size buckets? We got a really BIG one."

Scott rolled his eyes. "Annie, do you remember ANY of what Doctor Grey taught you about nutrition?"

"Uh-huh. We had apples, too." Annie beamed. "Great big green ones that got juice all over the inside of the Jeep. You gotta be careful with those things. And--"

"Good." Scott interceded before she could go into full spate. "Why don't you take Clarice up to your room, then? She looks like she could use an early night, and you have studying to do before you go to bed."

Annie nodded and sighed. "Okay, okay..." She stood on tiptoes and hugged her father around the ribs. "Friday, right?"

He wrapped big arms around her for a brief, awkward moment. "I'll be here."

She smiled dazzlingly at him, then pried Clarice's hand from his and gently coaxed her up the stairs, taking the small thin hand in her square, long-fingered one. "C'mon, I'll show you our room."

"Is it nice?" Clarice whispered.

"Sure it is. Kinda small, but that's okay if it's just us. Only don't wake me up if I'm sleeping, because I might whap you in my sleep." Annie's chattering -- softer than usual -- faded away up the stairs.

Sabretooth and Cyclops stared at each other.

There didn't seem to be a lot to say.

With a soft grunt, Sabretooth turned and stalked away.

Clarice inched a little closer to Annie. The brash, charming girl made her feel much safer. She might be a little loud, and a little overconfident, but she'd made it clear that anybody who messed with Clarice messed with her...and the other students had made it clear that anybody who messed with Annie was a crazy person.

They all seemed to like her, though...there was something about her unquenchable cheerfulness that made up for the loudness and impatience and total lack of anything resembling tact. She was annoying, but liked her anyway. Clarice had always been quiet, and friendly, and well behaved...and she hadn't had a tenth of the friends that Annie seemed to.

She kept waiting for the older girl -- by just over two years, they'd figured -- to leave, and go off with her own friends. But she hadn't...she'd just towed Clarice around with her, telling everyone who she was, and that she was shy, so they had to be nice. And they were...even the boys. Two called John and Bobby especially, who had smiled at her and shared a bag of candy at lunchtime. Rogue was nice, too, but much too old to really be a friend...seventeen, at least. Jubilee -- who'd once shared a room with Annie -- was nice, but spent most of her time with her own best friend, Kitty. Yana was the only one close to Clarice's age, but she didn't speak much English.

"You want a Gummi Snake?" Annie held out a small package. "They kind of get stuck in my teeth, but I like them."

Clarice took one, smiling a little. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Annie kicked at the grass, legs swinging from the bench. "Do you like it here?"

"It's nice." Clarice knew she looked anxious, but she couldn't help it. "How...how long can we stay?"

"I don't know," Annie said thoughtfully. "Until we're at least as old as Rogue and John."

Well, that was a long time... Clarice sucked contemplatively on her Gummi, feeling rather less worried.

Annie patted her knee. "Don't worry about it," she said comfortingly. "People like you here."

Clarice brightened. "They do?"

"Sure." Annie grinned. "You're quiet, and nice to people, and you keep me busy. I haven't climbed the side of the building once since you got here."

"Oh." Clarice giggled a little. "Is that good?"

"Well, if I'm not climbing the building, I can't jump off it screaming like a maniac just to watch everyone panic," Annie said reasonably. "Which, incidentally, never stops being funny. At least I don't think it does."

Clarice blinked, taking another gummi-snake. "...Oh."

"I'm not supposed to do it anymore." Annie sighed. "And I'm not allowed to run on the roof, and I'm not allowed to dig tunnels under the house, and I'm not allowed to swing on the power-lines, and I'm not allowed to drive the minibus, and I'm not allowed to sit on the ceiling during class." She pouted. "I'm not allowed do ANYTHING fun."

Clarice spluttered quietly. If she hadn't seen Annie standing up on the back of the motorbike, she'd never have believed it. "Well...there are other things that're fun..." she said weakly.

"Like what?" Annie asked curiously. "And don't suggest swimming across the lake, 'cause that makes people jumpy."

Clarice gulped. "Uh...board games?"

Annie sighed. "I'm not allowed to play Pictionary or Trivial Pursuit anymore. I'm too good at it. Perfect memory and all."

"Oh. Well. Uh... Playstation?"

"John gets upset when I win. I think it threatens his masculinity." Annie grinned. "Rogue's fun to play against, though."

Clarice giggled softly. "Oh, I see."

Annie grinned at her. "There's only one thing I won't play. 'Cause it's demeaning."

"What's that?" Clarice asked.

"Fetch. Anyway, Bobby gets the bark stuck in his teeth."

"Not really." He looked up from a stack of papers, smiling at her. "What is it?"

Annie perched in the 'student' chair. "It's Friday," she explained.

"And...?" he prompted.

"And I'm worried about Clarice." Annie gave him her serious-baby-monkey look. "She hasn't really acclimated yet, and she's upset about me going away."

"Oh. And you want to cancel this weekend's going-away?"

Annie gave him a stern look. "No, silly. I want her to go too. Dad misses me when I'm not there."

Scott blinked. "I...you don't think he'd...well...mind?"

Annie shook her head. "You said I couldn't have a puppy. I need something to play with."

Scott blinked again. "It's not quite the same," he said weakly.

"Well, no. I don't have to paper-train Clarice." Annie grinned. "Really, I'm sure he won't mind. He likes anything that keeps me busy."

Scott raised an eyebrow. "He's supposed to be spending time with you," he said sternly. "As in, he's supposed to keep you busy."

Annie grinned. "He tries," she said demurely. "But he's not really experienced with kids. And he gets tired, 'cause he's not as young as he used to be."

Scott spluttered quietly. "What did you do to him!?"

Annie widened her eyes innocently. "We ran a race."

"And how long was this race?" Scott asked suspiciously.

Annie sniffed disapprovingly. "He flagged after forty blocks."

Scott grinned. "Dreadful," he said, shaking his head.

"Mind you, he didn't actually STOP until fifty-three and a half blocks."

Scott chuckled. "And when did you stop?"

Annie grinned, swinging her feet. "Fifty-seven. I had to go back to get him."

Scott chuckled. "Ahh. Well, it's good that you went back." He fished around in his desk drawer, and offered her a bag of confiscated liquorice. "I don't know, Annie... Clarice really needs to acclimate to the school."
Annie pouted. "I can't take her with me?"

"Not this time," Scott said firmly. "We don't want to foster emotional dependency, do you?"

Annie sighed and shook her head. "No. 'Cause that's destructive to her emotional stability and personal wellness."

"That's right." Scott patted her hand. "We want Clarice to be a whole and self-reliant person, who doesn't need an emotional crutch."

Annie nodded. "But I'll call her tomorrow, to make sure she's all right."

"If you like." Scott smiled. She was so adorable, sometimes...when she wasn't being a nightmarishly energetic little hellion.

"I will." Annie pouted a little. "I still wish she could come with me."

"Maybe another time," Scott said kindly, not meaning a word. "And Annie...when you see your father, I think you need to have another one of those little talks with him."

Annie blinked. "Again? What'd he do this time?"

"There are five bikers in intensive care, and I understand that he wrapped one of them up in his bike so comprehensively that he had to be cut out with a welding torch."

"Oh dear." Annie sighed heavily. "I'll talk to him."

"You might mention the taxi he pushed into the river. Right off the side of the bridge." Scott removed his glasses for a moment to rub his closed eyelids, then slid them carefully back into place. "He is getting better, though. He did pull the driver out through the window before giving the taxi its bath."

"I'll talk to him," Annie said resignedly. "He won't do it again."

"Well, yes, but he's going to do something else just as bad, isn't he?" Scott leaned back in his chair and sighed. "I know it's not easy for you, Annie, trying to modify his behaviour, and I know you're too young for this kind of thing, but he won't listen to anyone else."

"I know." Annie rested her chin on her hand. "He's a big responsibility."

"And if you don't feel ready for that responsibility, Annie, you don't have to--"

"Yes I do." Annie shrugged. "Nobody else can."

Scott paused. Then he smiled at her, reaching out to pat her shoulder gently. "That's a very mature attitude," he said softly. "And I'm proud of you."

She beamed, and nearly knocked him over with an enthusiastic hug. "Thanks, Mr. Summers!"

"You're welcome." Scott returned the hug, a little awkwardly. "And no."

Annie pouted. "I didn't even ask yet!"

"Clarice still needs to be independent. And you need to have that little talk with your dad."

Annie sighed. "Oh, okay. But you gotta look after her while I'm gone."

Clarice shook her head, hugging a cushion to her chest. "Don't want to," she whispered stubbornly.

"You sure?" he asked kindly. "We'd like you to come along."

"Don't want to," she insisted.

"Okay. We'll bring you back something." He smiled at her again, and left.

Clarice sniffled a tiny sniffle. She missed Annie. It had been a whole day and a half, and she wouldn't be back until tomorrow morning. The school seemed a lot bigger and scarier without her, and Clarice felt very much smaller.

Everyone was being nice to her...Jubilee and Kitty had taken her to a movie yesterday, along with Illyana, and even bought her popcorn. And Bobby had just offered to let her go with him, Marie, and John to the mall, and Mr. Summers had even let her have an extra helping of dessert last night. But it wasn't the same.

"Clarice?" a gentle voice murmured.

Clarice looked up to see the smooth white hair and dignified smile that were the first things anyone noticed about Ms. Monroe. "Hi," she whispered.

"Hello," Ms. Monroe said softly, sitting down on the couch beside her, right where Bobby had been a few minutes before. "You didn't want to go to the mall, then?"

Clarice shook her head. She hadn't wanted to go. She hated the mall, which was too big and too loud and too bright and too crowded. Even with Annie, it was scary.

Ms. Monroe nodded understandingly. "It is a little overwhelming sometimes, isn't it?" she said kindly. "So very loud, and so many people."

Clarice nodded, giving her a shy little smile. Ms. Monroe was nice. She didn't act like you were weird if you didn't talk much, and got nervous in crowds. She didn't talk much, either.

"Well, since you don't want to go to the mall, how about we go down to the kitchen?" She smiled that nice smile again, holding out her hand. "I have a tub of ice cream hidden in the freezer that we could share, if you like."

Clarice smiled again, a bit wider this time. "Okay," she whispered, tucking her small thin hand into Ms. Monroe's long, slender one.

They slipped down to the kitchen, where the cook was muttering good-temperedly about picky teenagers who didn't appreciate fine food. Ms. Monroe smiled at him, and they took the ice cream and two spoons out onto the little patio. "I hope you like fudge-mint," Ms. Monroe said seriously. "It's my favourite kind."

"I've never tried it," Clarice murmured shyly.

"Here." Ms. Monroe loaded up a spoon and held it out. Clarice tasted it tentatively, and couldn't help the big smile that spread over her face. The older woman smiled too, and pushed the tub a little closer. "You like it, hm?"

Clarice nodded, beaming. "It's nice."

Ms. Monroe took a spoonful of her own, and nibbled it delicately. "You miss Annie, don't you?" she said gently. Clarice nodded silently, taking another spoonful of ice cream. Ms. Monroe nodded, giving her another kindly smile. "It must be very dull, not having anyone to play with," she ventured.

Clarice nodded again, smiling a little bit. "We play lots of things," she said shyly. "Like hide-and-seek, and Finding Things That Got Lost, and Climbing High Things and Making John Nuts."

Ms. Monroe actually giggled at that. "As a teacher, I should discourage that game, but I rather believe that it's good for his ego," she said, almost impishly. "It makes it a lot smaller."

Clarice giggled too. "He swears a lot," she said shyly. "But he knows it's in fun."

Ms. Monroe nodded. "You and Annie seem to have a lot of fun together," she said softly. "You know, she wanted to take you with her this weekend."

Clarice nodded and sighed. "But Mr. Summers said no. 'Cause he doesn't want me to be dependant." Annie had explained that Mr. Summers only had their best interests at heart, but Clarice hadn't been entirely convinced.

Ms. Monroe looked grave. "I think Mr. Summers was right, Clarice," she said softly. "Annie's visiting her father right now, and...well...he can be a little scary sometimes."

Clarice gave her a blank look. "He can?"

Ms. Monroe blinked back. "You hadn't noticed?"

Clarice shook her head, and smiled another shy little smile. "He let me ride on the motor-bike," she said happily. "And I got a whole pizza all for me."

Ms. Monroe blinked at her, looking baffled and a little alarmed. "You did?"

Clarice nodded. "He doesn't talk much, 'cept to Annie, but he didn't yell at me or anything. And he gave me and Annie a box of cookies each." Food figured largely in Clarice's world, and had since she'd found herself homeless and alone. Anyone who gave her as much as she wanted to eat, and didn't yell at her, was fine with her.

Ms. Monroe took another bite of ice cream, gazing out at the grounds for a long moment. "He didn't...scare you, then?" she asked carefully.

Clarice pondered the question. "A little, I guess. Right at first. But not after I saw him and Annie together for a while." She sighed, licking her spoonful of ice cream reflectively. "It must be nice to have someone like that. Who loves you even if you are a rotten kid a lot of the time."

Ms. Monroe nodded slowly. "They seem truly fond of each other, then?"

Clarice nodded. "In a guy way. Shoulder-punching and stuff."

Ms. Monroe nodded again. "Would you have liked to go with Annie?" she asked very quietly.

Clarice savoured her ice cream. "Yes," she said just as quietly. "I wanted to go."

"Then I will arrange it with Mr. Summers for next week," Ms. Monroe said, standing up. "You may finish what's left of the ice cream, if you wish. I...have work that needs doing."

Clarice nodded, digging into the ice cream happily. She would go next weekend. It would all be arranged.

Annie bounced off the back of her father's bike, tugging her helmet off. He always insisted that she wear it, mostly because he'd get arrested if she didn't and that'd be awkward. "Dad, come in and say hi to Clarice," she demanded. "She likes you."

"Yeah, but nobody else in there does," he grunted. "'specially not yer pal Summers....."

"Well, no, but you can hardly blame them," Annie pointed out reasonably. "Just because you never tried to throw ME off the Statue of Liberty doesn't mean it doesn't still bother THEM."

"Yeah, well... I did say I wouldn't do it again," he said a bit defensively.

"I don't think Mr Logan believes you." Annie sighed, giving him an adorably serious look. "Not everybody knows you like I do, you know."

"Yeah." Creed smiled, reaching out to ruffle her soft blonde curls. "You KNOW not to believe me."

"Yup." She grinned at him. "Except you wouldn't toss me. 'cause if you try it with me I'll rip your damn arm off, y'know that."

"That's my girl," he said fondly.

"Hi!" A little streak of purple hair and blue overall zipped down the steps and latched onto Annie like a limpet. "I missed you."

Annie smiled, patting the younger girl's head as if she was a friendly puppy. "Everyone misses me when I'm not there," she said cheerfully. "Only some people LIKE to miss me. It means I'm not there."

Creed and Clarice both snickered at that. She had a point. Annie was as powerfully *present* as anyone either of them had ever met, and it could be something of a relief to get out of the way of all that forcefulness. "I didn't like missing you, though," Clarice confided. "I like it when you're here."

"Well, good." Annie gave her father a hopeful look. "Can I keep her? Lookit, she's so cute....."

Creed looked dubious. "I dunno...."

Annie pouted. "Please? If I can't have a kitten or an anaconda, can't I keep a Clarice?"

"Well, I guess the school can't say no to this one..." Scott Summers had forcefully vetoed the anaconda. Not even a python, he'd insisted. Not even a grass snake. Annie had sulked for nearly twenty minutes, an all-time record.

Clarice looked hopeful. "I'm housebroken," she offered.

Annie giggled. "See? And she won't try to chew your fingers off, either."

Creed smiled reluctantly. Annie really seemed to like the little monkey..... and he'd heard that every child needed a pet. "Oh, okay. You can keep her." He scowled a little. "But only as long as both of ya behave real good."

Annie nodded. "Of course!" She hugged him quickly, kissing his cheek. "I'll look after her, I promise. She won't be any bother."

Creed swallowed, trying not to melt into a putty-willed wussy-man at the slightly damp, childish kiss. "She better not," he said weakly.

"I'll be really good." And Clarice hugged him too, rather shyly.

Startled, he hugged back, more or less automatically. It wasn't anything like hugging Annie, who was all sleek muscle and feline scent. Clarice was small and a bit bony, smelling of girl-child and the candy she loved so much. He was surprised to discover that it was quite nice. "You'd better," he said a bit gruffly, fending her off gently. "Now you two scoot. You both got classes this morning."

Annie nodded, grabbing her backpack, and the two girls scampered off. He looked after them for a moment, smiling a tiny bit. They were so cute and trusting.... it was almost a shame that they wouldn't stay that way.

There was a rustle behind him. Creed didn't bother to turn around. "Sneakin' around in the bushes?"

Logan grunted, slipping out of cover with what would have seemed to a normal person to be preternatural silence. "Was out having a smoke when I heard the bike."

"Ah." Creed was finding himself in a state he never remembered feeling before..... acute embarrassment. He'd just been caught hugging not only his own child, which might be explained away, but another one that he hardly even knew. "Got you house-trained, have they? No smokin' yer nasty cigars in the nice house?" He said it as nastily as he could, but his heart wasn't in it.

Logan shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. "Just wanted some peace and quiet, without all them damn kids around," he explained.

Creed nodded.

They gazed at each other for a long, embarrassed moment. Their tough, manliness had been irreparably damaged. Creed had been caught hugging a child not his own and..... far worse.... Logan had been caught having to go outside to smoke. Testosterone dribbled humiliatingly away, and they found themselves coughing and staring at random trees.

Carefully, they inched off in opposite directions, until Creed could gun the bike and Logan could wander back into the woods without either of them having to admit to noticing that the other had gone.

Marie looked up, and squeaked in surprise. "Logan, what on earth happened to you?!" She jumped to her feet, reaching out to him.

He was standing in her bedroom doorway, swaying slightly on his feet. His clothes were shredded, he was covered in mud and blood and what smelled like whiskey, and there were fading cuts and bruises covering every inch of skin that she could see. He was grinning weakly. "Hi, kid. Got in a bit of a scrap."

"With who!? An entire hockey team?!" she demanded, checking automatically that her gloves were on and her sleeves rolled down, then tugging his arm over her shoulder.

He leaned gratefully against her. "Nah. One overgrown kittycat." He chuckled a bit dopily. "Was kinda fun."

Marie rolled her eyes. Men. "So why come here?"

"Do' wan' Jean and Scottertron finding out. They'll get all snotty about it." He swayed a bit more. "Got a bandaid?"

Rogue giggled helplessly, towing him over to the spacious ensuite that was one of the few benefits of her mutant powers. "Scottertron?"

"Long, long story." Actually, he didn't remember where that'd come from... he'd been a little drunk at the time, and in the middle of pounding Creed's head into the bar.

"Ah. Of course." She pushed him down to sit on the edge of the bath, and opened up the tiny cabinet over the sink. "Is any of the bar still standing?"

Logan managed to look a little ashamed of himself. "Most of it," he said evasively. "All the really important walls..."

"LO-gan!" Marie gave him an adorably reproachful look, pulling out a roll of bandage. "I thought you said you weren't going to fight anymore!"

"F'r money. Said I wouldn't fight f'r money." Logan waved an unsteady finger. He'd drunk a lot, then gotten into a rather demanding fight, then drunk some more. He didn't remember the last time he'd been this schickered. "This was just for fun."

"Oh, and that's supposed to make it better?" She sighed, wrapping a deep cut on his arm. The wounds did heal better if they were held closed by something. "I take it that by 'overgrown kittycat' you mean Sabretooth?"

He nodded. "It wasn't a serious fight," he said reassuringly. "Just..... I dunno... seein' who'd win."

She gave him a look of feminine disgust. "Who won?"

"Dunno. We both got too drunk to keep fightin', so we postponed it." Logan burped happily.

"Oh, that reeks...." Marie said, making a face and fanning a hand pointedly. "You're just disgusting...."

"Yeah? So?" Logan sighed, leaning back against the tile. "He ain't quite as bad as I thought."

Marie nodded, using bandaids to tape the deeper cuts closed. "Annie sure seems to think so."

He looked at her, with that brooding look that still made her heart pound a bit. "You.... got them in yer head too?" he said tentatively. They'd never talked about it before - her powers, or their effects.

Marie shook her head, leaning back on her heels and nibbling thoughtfully on her lip. "Annie.... I dunno how.... she fixed it so I only absorbed power from him. I got all the memories and stuff from her." Her lips quirked softly. "It faded real fast..."

His shaggy eyebrows raised. "Thought they... I dunno.... stuck around for a while."

Marie nodded. "You did. So did Magneto. Even David. But... it depends on the personality. You and Magneto are really intense, focused kindsa people, you know?" She shook her head, fingering the white lock absently. "Annie.... she's sorta vague. There's a whole lotta stuff going on in her head, but really fast. After a couple hours, all there was left in *my* head was a sorta bouncy, cheery feeling and an urge to go 'ooh, shiny'."

Logan nodded, seeming to relax a bit. "No nightmares or nothin'?"

Marie shook her head. "Nope. Worst thing that happened was when I was wondering how a caterpillar tasted...."

Logan choked quietly. "No kiddin'?"

Marie giggled. "Annie caught me looking and told me that the stripy kind aren't any good to eat."

Logan chuckled softly. "She's a nice kid," he said, smiling a little.

Marie nodded, and wrinkled her nose. "And when SHE wanders into my room late at night, at least she's clean."

Annie lay on her stomach, inspecting a small dandelion. "I like yellow," she said thoughtfully.

Clarice looked at the flower. "I like pink," she said, resting her chin on her small fist. "It's pretty."

"Yellow is brighter," Annie objected, pointing to the flower as if to submit it for evidence.

"Pink is softer," Clarice pointed out, holding out a fold of her t-shirt. It had a little round pink animal on it that Marie said was a Pokemon. Annie thought it looked like a marshmallow with eyes. Clarice thought it was cute.

"I like green best," Marie said, without bothering to open her eyes. She was lying on her back on the grass, enjoying the spring sunshine.

"Green's nice too," Annie conceded. "But I like yellow best."

"That's okay," Marie said patiently. "Everyone has different favourite colours."

"They do?" Annie digested this for a long moment. "What are they?"

"You'll have to ask yourself. I'm enjoying the sunshine," Marie said firmly.

"Okay!" Annie jumped to her feet and scampered off. "Hey, John! Bobby! Do you have favourite colours?"

Marie chuckled softly. "That'll keep her busy for a while."

Clarice giggled too. She was more at ease now with Marie, who treated both younger girls like sometimes pesky little sisters. "She's easy to distract, isn't she?"

"Thank god for that. The only thing keeping the world safe from her is the thirty-second attention span." Marie stretched her arms above her head, soaking up the warm sun. She was wearing short sleeves and short gloves today... Annie and Clarice could be trusted to be careful, and she did love the feel of spring sunshine.

"Well, hello there."

Marie opened her eyes in surprise. The new kid, Roberto something or other, was gazing down at her with a speculative smile. She groaned inwardly. "Hi," she said, as neutrally as she could.

"I'm Roberto," he said smoothly. "Don't think I've had the pleasure." He smiled, and she muffled a whimper. He was devastatingly cute, charming as all get out, and obviously looking for the status of having a girlfriend a little older than he was. Yuck.

"Rogue," she said coolly. Clarice was looking intimidated, and she patted the small shoulder. "Nice to meet you."

"I hope so." He smiled again. Rogue was torn between an urge to run like hell (that was the trauma talking) and an urge to kick him somewhere painful (that, she suspected, was the remains of Logan's persona).

"Yeah, well..... it was nice, but I gotta go," she said, scrambling to her feet. "C'mon, Clarrie. Let's go see if Logan's figured out your training schedule." She hustled the younger girl off to sit with Logan. For some reason, guys never came over when a girl was sitting with Logan.

Behind her, he scowled, sulking back to one of the groups of boys. Behind him, Annie looked around sharply at him, pointed ears twitching.

Scott blinked. He'd just been down the road to the store, picking up odds and ends that for one reason or another hadn't been included in the weekly shopping. Some toothpaste for sensitive gums, a few cans of tuna, a jar of dried rosemary... stuff like that. It was a trip he made nearly every week.

Jean didn't usually wait on the steps for him to return.

"Is something wrong?" He slid out of the car, giving her a concerned look behind the glasses as he noted her clasped hands and furrowed brow.

She nodded, reaching out to rest a hand on his arm. "I'm glad you're back," she said quietly. "There's been a fight."

Scott raised an eyebrow quizzically. "There are fights all the time. Why.... oh." He frowned. "Annie?"

Jean nodded. "Annie, pitted against Piotr, Fred, and that new student, Roberto. I haven't been able to get any details out of them as to how it started, but Piotr is badly concussed, Fred has a broken leg, and I'm worried that Roberto might lose a couple of fingers. They're all badly bruised and scratched, too, and Roberto's lost quite a bit of blood."

Scott abandoned the shopping, taking Jean's arm and hustling towards the infirmary. "Nothing potentially fatal?"

"No. And Logan's pretty insistent that she *could* have killed all three of them if that was what she'd been trying to do. Scott, the whole fight lasted less than a minute and a half. She did all that damage in seventy-eight seconds."

Scott made a soft, unhappy sound, walking a little faster. "How did the fight get broken up?"

Jean bit her lip. "It happened very fast, but from what I could see, Logan grabbed her and threw her into a wall, then Rogue jumped on her before she could go for him. She stopped fighting then, so as not to hurt Rogue."

"When you say threw-"

"The wall was twenty yards away. Annie hit it hard enough to scar the paintwork." Jean sighed. "It DID stop her, though, and he seemed to think it was necessary..."

Scott growled quietly. HE could have stopped the fight without throwing little girls around. "Where is she?"

Jean stopped in the middle of the hall, pulling him to a halt as well. "You're not going to like it, but-"

He read the proffered thought and scowled. "You put her in the *cells*?!"

"Just until we figure out what happened!" she said defensively. "I thought you could talk to her-"

Scott stalked away, not trusting himself to speak. God, he loved her, loved her with all his heart, but sometimes....

Annie was sitting on the floor in the middle of one of the cells, knees tucked up under her chin and a furious scowl on her small face. She looked up at the sound of his footsteps, and her face seemed to soften a little as she saw him. "I was in a fight," she told him unhappily. "And I got pushed in here. I don't like being locked up."

"I know." Scott punched in the code to disable the energy-screen that served as a door to the cell, and sat down beside her, reaching out to take one small hand in his. There was blood caked over her knuckles and under her claws. "What happened?"

She looked at the open door and relaxed slightly, letting her fingers curl around his. "We were all outside," she explained. "And that new guy was trying to flirt with Rogue. And Rogue didn't like it, so she went away and sat with Mr Logan. So then Roberto started saying nasty things about Rogue." She paused, looking thoughtful. "I think they were nasty, anyway. I didn't know all of them."

Scott nodded as calmly as he could. "What exactly did he say?"

Annie's sweet, slightly husky voice deepened and smoothed to exactly mimic Roberto's. "What's wrong with her? I was just trying to be friendly." Then the voice shifted again to mimic Piotr's slightly stilted English. "There is nothing wrong with Rogue, Roberto. She simply does not wish to flirt." And back to Roberto's voice, sneering a little. "I noticed. Damn ice-queen... a guy'd probably get frostbite, anyway."

Scott nodded, jaw hardening grimly. "I see."

Annie nodded. "There was more. He didn't think I could hear, but I could, so I went over there and told him to stop it. He gave me that funny look..." she imitated Roberto's lord-of-the-manor-condescending-to-the-lowly-peon expression perfectly. It was one he used a lot with the younger students. "And he asked me why. I told him 'cause it wasn't nice."

"That sounds very reasonable of you," Scott said cautiously.

Annie nodded. "I *was* being reasonable. I didn't growl or nothin'."

"Anything," he corrected automatically.

"I didn't growl or *anything*," Annie repeated obediently. "And then he asked me who was going to make him, and I said me, and he laughed, and I kicked him in the stomach. And he punched me, an' he was using his powers so it hit really hard." She scowled. "I got mad."

"And that was when the fight started?" he asked gently.

Annie nodded and sighed. "I didn't mean to smack Piotr's head into the concrete like that," she said regretfully. "But he grabbed my arms, and I shoved him off before I knew who it was."

"What about Fred?" Scott asked, rubbing the small, cold hand gently between both of his.

"I didn't kick him on purpose. He got too close."

Scott nodded and sighed. "Annie, I know you didn't hurt anyone on purpose.... except for Roberto... but you know fighting isn't allowed. Especially not for you."

Annie grumbled quietly. "He deserved it."

"Maybe. But you shouldn't have tried to deal with it yourself." A deep and personal dislike of snobbery prompted him to add "You should have told Mr Logan, and let him handle it."

"I guess." Annie sighed, giving him a mournful look. "I'm in trouble, aren't I?"

Scott nodded. "Yes, Annie, you are," he said seriously. "I know you were angry, and Roberto shouldn't have hit you, but you know you're not supposed to hurt the other students."

She hung her head. "I din't kill anyone," she mumbled. "Or even hurt 'em bad."

"I know." He rubbed the small back gently, feeling solid muscle under his hand. Somehow, it felt as if he was talking to a much younger child, trying to explain to her why she shouldn't hit the other kids in the sandbox. "But you're very highly trained, and that means you have to be extra careful."

She nodded penitently. "I'll try not to get mad at people," she promised.

"I know you will." He hugged her gently, the gesture coming oddly naturally. "And you're going to apologize to the boys, aren't you?"

She pouted, snuggling against his shoulder. "Even Roberto?"

"Especially Roberto," he said firmly.

"Oh, okay." She heaved a long sigh. "An' I'm gonna be punished, too, aren't I?"

"You're lucky you're not going to be expelled," Scott said a little reprovingly. Which she wouldn't.... she couldn't help the way she was, and if Xavier didn't see that then Scott would explain it to him, over and over again if necessary, until his resistance broke. "You may consider yourself grounded until furthur notice. No tv, no games, no dessert, and no weekend trips."

"But-" She saw his expression and sighed again. "Oh, all right..."

"Good. Now I want you to go to your room and think about what you did, and why it was wrong. And I don't want any references to chaos theory. I'd suggest referring to the Tao." He patted her arm. "You can tell me what you came up with tomorrow."

Annie nodded, brightening at the thought of the proffered intellectual exercise. "Okay!"

Scott nodded. He really didn't know why some people had trouble keeping her busy. "Someone will bring your dinner up to you."

Annie nodded. "Okay." She headed off to her room, a bit less scamper in her step than there usually was.

Scott sighed. There was going to be trouble over this.

"Did you talk to her?"

Scott nodded, slipping around their bedroom door and giving Jean a half-hearted smile. He was still a little mad at her for putting Annie in the cells, but he supposed he could see her point. "We talked, and she's in her room."

Jean frowned a little. "Are you sure that's wise?" The sheer, frenzied violence of Annie's attack on her classmate had shaken her badly. Just what kind of child were they harbouring?

"She knows that restriction to her room includes the treebranch outside." Scott sat down on the bed to unlace his shoes. "It makes her a lot less nervous than being locked in, and I don't think either of us wants her any jumpier."

His fiance nodded reluctantly. "That's true." She looked down at the scatter of papers on her desk. "Roberto still might lose his little finger on the left hand, but the others seem to be all right. It's just a matter of time."

"Good." Scott pulled off his shoes and socks and sprawled back on the bed, wriggling his toes in the cool air. Going shoeless was a secret, passionate vice for Scott Summers; in the orphanage, children had always worn shoes except to sleep, and neither an X-Man or a teacher could wander around shoeless. So he did it sometimes to relax, and Jean had learned that if she could see the bent nail on his pinky toe, he was tense.

"What are we going to do with her?" she asked, sitting down on the bed beside him and twining her fingers with his. "Annie, I mean."

"It's pretty much dealt with," he said tiredly, lifting his glasses for one careful moment to rub his closed eyes. "She promised not to do it again, and she'll apologize."

Jean blinked at him. "And that's *it*?"

Scott nodded. "She won't be doing it again."

"But.... Scott, I know it sounds harsh, but we can't just let her get away with this. The other students need to understand that we won't permit fighting-"

Scott waved his free hand. "Oh, I grounded her too. No tv, no games, no dessert, and no weekend visits with Sabretooth."

Jean blinked again. She took a deep, calming breath. "Scott, that... that little menace nearly chewed three of Roberto's fingers off. He's covered in scratches, many of them deep enough to leave scars, he's traumatized and in shock..... and Annie is *grounded*?!"

Scott nodded, sitting up and squeezing her hand gently. "Jean... We have to make allowances. She doesn't know that what she did was wrong, any more than a toddler would. I've explained it to her that it was, and she's thinking about it, but... she's very young."

"She's not that young! Scott, she has to learn to take responsibility for her actions." Jean bit her lip. "I tried to reach into her mind when she first attacked.... all I could sense was a furious, all-consuming rage, a desire to lash out.... she wanted to hurt him, Scott. Badly."

Scott nodded, making his rueful face. "I pretty much suspected as much. But... do you remember when you were very, very young? When nobody understood you when you tried to talk, and nobody listened to you, and they talked as if you weren't there?"

Jean nodded, brow furrowing a little.

Scott played with her fingers gently, frowning a little himself as he tried to explain. "I remember one incident, when I was very, very young... Alex was only a baby... I can't remember what happened exactly, just that my father was too busy taking care of Alex to do something that he'd promised to do with me. I was so angry that I honestly would have tried to chew his hand off, if I could have reached it." He smiled a little. "As I recall it, I kicked him in the ankle and hid under the stairs."

Jean smiled, squeezing his hand. "I'm not sure of the relevance, Scott...."

"The point is that little kids can sometimes get very, very angry. They have little or no self-control, so they don't try to control it or contain it the way someone older would - they just lash out. Annie's been treated as a mental defective for most of her life, held to the social and emotional level of a child of about three years old."

Jean blinked slowly. "You think that's why she behaves the way she does?" she said slowly. "Because she's still a child?"

Scott nodded. "In some ways, she's breathtakingly intelligent, and that makes it harder to see," he explained quietly. "But she's never, until now, been required to act her age, and it's hard for her. She's very literal-minded, and very simplistic, and complex moral issues are entirely beyond her. In a lot of ways, she's a very small child, and getting angry at her for it won't help that."

"But she has to know that what she did was wrong," Jean said firmly.

"She does. I told her so." Scott shrugged. "We'll have to watch her closely, of course, but other than that..." he smiled ruefully. "There's never yet been a way to hurry a child's developement safely. She just has to mature at her own speed."

His fiancee nodded, conceding the point with a soft kiss. "She just makes me nervous, that's all. Did you know that even the professor can't read her properly?"

Scott blinked, lips quirking a little. "I can read her."

Jean poked him in the stomach. "You're a telepath, now?" she asked, grinning.

"No..." He chucked, capturing her hand and kissing the fingers. "But when it comes to body-language, Annie's a walking, talking megaphone. Don't let this-" he kissed her temple, "-make you forget how these work." He kissed her eyelids softly.

"I stand corrected." Jean smiled, snuggling into his arms. "Wait, what was that you just said? I've had a momentary flash of amnesia." She lifted her face to his, smiling. "You'll have to demonstrate again."

When Creed pulled up, Annie wasn't waiting on the steps like she usually was. Instead, the prim, straight-backed Cyclops was standing there, arms folded and what he probably thought was a scowl on his face. "We need to talk," he said calmly.

Creed frowned. "Why?"

"Annie's been grounded," the boy said in his prissy little voice. "Welcome to your first parent/teacher conference."

Creed blinked. There was no way *this* was a good thing.

Ten minutes later, he was experiencing the stomach-churning nervousness of sitting on the wrong side of a teacher's desk. "So what'd she do? Set fire t' somethin'?"

Scott shook his head. "Fighting."

"Oh." Creed thought about it. "Did she win?"

The boy actually grinned wryly. "Oh, she won all right. Not only did she get the guy she was fighting, she took down one kid who was trying to stop the fight and another one who was standing too close."

Creed beamed. "That's my girl."

"The boy who started the fight may lose a finger."

Creed frowned. "Just a finger?"

Scott smiled ruefully. "Well, Logan grabbed her by the head and tossed her into a wall before she could really get going."

"It *did* work, mind you," Scott felt impelled to point out.

"Yeah, well, it *does* work... but I'm still gonna beat his head in with a Chrysler," Creed said. From him, it was positively forgiving.

"Want me to find you one? I think there's one in the garage."

The blonde man snorted, grinning a feral grin. "Not bad, kid."

"I don't like him any more than you do." The boy grinned lopsidedly. "Anyway... Annie's not going to be expelled, but she *is* grounded... which means no weekend visit."

Creed scowled. "We got an agreement. I don't burn the place to the ground, kill everyone, and take her with me, and you let me see her every weekend."

"Well, yes..." Scott was in a small room with an increasingly angry Sabretooth. He prayed for inspiration. "But for the sake of the other students, a strong authoritative front must be maintained..." Some benificent god answered his prayers, and he smiled weakly. "Which isn't to say that you can't see HER. You may, of course, visit her here. You just can't take her away."

Creed blinked. Scott waited patiently for him to change mental gears.

"What would we do HERE?" Creed asked, a bit uncertainly. Given that the weekend's agenda had included some impromptu training, a demonstration of bar-fighting with special focus on broken-bottle technique, and a lot of pizza, he considered this a valid question.

"Uhm." Scott looked blank for a long moment. "Uh..." He had never considered himself to be a favourite of the gods, given the events of his life up until now, but if inspiration kept raining down on him like this.... "Why don't you get her to give you the tour? You know.... show you her room and stuff."

Creed blinked, and had to shift mental gears again. "Oh." That was... well, he supposed it was a normal thing to do. Seeing where his little girl went to school.

Scott nodded, scrabbling gratefully onto firmer ground. "I'm sure she'd enjoy showing you the... the labs and so forth. She's putting together quite a science project."

The bushy eyebrows quirked together in a puzzled expression. "She is?"

He nodded, feeling a little hard done by. "I'm still not entirely certain that a functional robot is a good idea, but she says she wants to figure out how bug legs *really* work."

"She's building a *robot*?" Creed blinked helplessly. He couldn't even build a beer-can pyramid more than five cans tall without it falling down.

"Yes, she is." Scott sighed, rubbing his temple. "Mr Creed... Annie is, to put it bluntly, a genius. She could probably build a functional spaceship, if someone gave her a lot of raw materials and a how-to manual."

"No she couldn't," Creed objected uneasily. "She'd see a butterfly go past and she'd drop everything to try and figure out how its wings are attached."

"Well.... yes, there is that..." Scott privately thanked whatever benevolent gods there were that this was so. The havoc Annie could wreak if she aimed her ferocious intellect at anything for more than a few minutes...

"She is smart, though," Creed said, with a sort of forlorn pride. He knew he wasn't smart, and he'd probably never understand above half of what Annie talked about... but she was smart.

"She is." Scott nodded, shuffling the papers on his desk. "Anyway..... if you'd like to go out in the lobby and wait quietly, I'll get her to come down." He smiled ruefully, holding out a piece of paper. "Here's the list of things she's not allowed to do."

Creed frowned. "Whaddya mean...." He trailed off, looking at the list.

1. No jumping off the roof.
2. No swinging from the upstairs balcony.
3. No spontaneous yodelling in the middle of the night.
4. The ornamental carp are not for eating.
5. No picking other students up and swinging them around by their ankles.

He blinked.

6. The plane is not a toy.
7. No climbing inside the enclosures at the zoo.
8. Religion is not an appropriate topic for spontaneous debate.

"The list. Right."

Scott nodded. "There's room at the bottom of the third page, if you'd like to put some things in," he suggested helpfully. "Do you have a pen?"

"-and this is where Rogue and Clarice study." Annie pointed out the patch of grass conscientiously. "And that branch up there is where I study."

Creed looked up. The branch was just above eye level on him. "Kinda low, ain't it?"

"If I go any higher, it's too far to climb down when I want more candy," Annie explained.

"Oh." He'd already shown the main classroom (which was full of plants and windows, and had seemed rather nice), the science lab, (which had made him twitchy and nervous) and a scrupulously tidy room full of stuffed toys where she and Clarice slept.

Clarice was hopping along beside him, having to skip to keep up with his long strides. She had little pigtails, just like Annies.

Creed was vaguely, uncomfortably aware that she was very cute. Annie was pointing to a wrought-iron bench, painted dark green. "And that's the bench I lift up sometimes," she said proudly. "It's really heavy, but I can do it, wanna see?"

"Okay," Creed said uncertainly.

Annie scampered over and hoisted the massive bench... which probably weighed about as much as an average human male... above her head. "See? See?" She said proudly. "I can lift it with Clarice sitting on it, too, only it makes her seasick."

Clarice nodded shamefacedly. "I threw up on Doctor Grey," she said meekly.

Creed snickered, and patted Clarice's head with one massive hand. "Good girl."

Annie giggled, putting the bench down. Clarice blushed. "I got some on Mr Logan, too," she said hopefully.

Creed grinned, ruffling her hair. "I could get ta like her," he told Annie.

Annie grinned back at him. "I thought you might."

Clarice looked pleased, rubbing up against his hand like a kitten. Annie did the same thing, and Creed found himself scritching the hollow at the base of her skull, very gently, before he'd really thought about it. "Anything else I should see?"

Annie nodded. "I have a garden," she said proudly. "A little bitty one. But there's some stuff coming up now, wanna see?'

Creed nodded, and followed her over to the tiny plot, with its carefully tended little green shoots.

"That's fennel," Annie said, pointing to a tiny, feathery plant. "And that's dill, and that's marjoram, and that's rosemary, and that's oregano, and that little one there is mint." She grinned. "I wanted to plant catnip, but Mr Summers said that if Pete's not allowed grow pot, I'm not allowed have drugs in my garden either."

Creed just barely turned a giggle into a manly chuckle. He could just see the poker-spined kid explaining to Annie why she couldn't have mind-altering substances in the school herb-garden. "I see...."

"But they smell nice." Annie leaned over and sniffed. "Try it."

Creed and Clarice both sniffed obediently. The herbs were pleasantly aromatic, and Creed sniffed again, enjoying the scent. "Not bad."

Anne nodded. "I like it here," she said softly. "They're nice. But I like being your cub, too."

Creed nodded, letting his lips curve in a tiny, genuine smile. "It's not bad," he said noncommitally.

Annie nodded. "Clarice'll be good at it," she promised, golden eyes going slit-pupiled the way they often did when she was thoughtful. "You'll see."

Creed nodded. "We'll see."

Bobby poked John in the back. "What's up?" he asked irritably. "Move already. I can't reach the jello until you move, and I like jello, so just pick up your foot, movie it forward, and-"

John pointed.

Bobby looked, and nearly dropped his tray.

A huge, lionlike man was standing in the doorway, looking around. He stood the way Mr Logan stood, tense, braced, ready for action, as if expecting an attack at any moment. His eyes were the same, too, though much darker... roving around the room, checking for exits, checking for potential danger.

Bobby thought, a little dazedly, that no cloaked figure wielding a scythe and breathing the cold of the grave could look more like Death than this man did, just standing there.

Then he moved, looking down beside him, and Bobby saw Annie standing beside the man, looking up at him with her innocent, affectionate smile. Bobby blinked. This was Sabretooth? The rabid supervillain who'd supposedly been 'tamed' by his daughter's soft, clawed little touch? Tamed his ass, Bobby thought, rolling his eyes just a little. That..... being.... wasn't tamed, he'd just stopped to think about it for a moment.

John reached back to nudge him gently. "That's not a man," he breathed, so softly that not even Xavier, let alone Creed or Logan, could have heard it over the chatter. "That's testosterone with feet."

Bobby nodded. "You realize that both of us together, in our whole lives, are never gonna make as much macho as that guy does in one week," he breathed back. "I feel inadequate just looking."

"Me too." John grinned. "Go on, make ice in his underpants."

Bobby wavered, tempted for one long moment. Then the dark eyes met his for a brief moment, and he shuddered. "No thanks. I'm too young to die," he said softly.

Creed released the boy's wide, half-intimidated, half-fascinated blue gaze and looked down at Annie again. "You eat here every night?" he rumbled.

She nodded, tapping her ear with one clawed finger. "I shift a little tiny bit," she explained. "Bring my hearing down a few notches, so it's not so loud."

Creed frowned, shaking his head. "Shouldn't do that," he said firmly. "Gotta get so you can handle loud noises."

Annie wrinkled her nose as she tugged him over to a half-empty table. "But it hurts my ears," she complained.

"You just gotta get used to it," he said, tapping the top of her head gently. Well, gently by his standards, although a less sturdy child than Annie might well have wobbled a bit on her feet.

Annie sighed. "Oh, okay....." she said resignedly. "You sit here. Me and Clarice will get you a tray."

Creed nodded reluctantly, sitting down in the slightly too-small chair. He didn't really like the crowd, but he'd be damned if he'd let any of them know about it.

"Hi."

He grunted, unsure of what to say. Obviously he shouldn't start a fight here, but he didn't think the kid'd respond well to 'hi, how are you, how about those Mets'. Or whatever. Creed only liked hockey.

"I just wanted to let you know that we're even. Kinda. I guess." She looked down at her tray. "I mean, you did put me in that machine thing..."

Creed shifted a little awkwardly. He did sort of feel a little bad about that.

"But you did let me take your powers so I wouldn't die when I got shot. So. Even, I think." She looked at him from under the white lock Annie said the machine had given her. "Annie says you promised not to do it again."

He lifted one shoulder in a brief shrug. "Ain't workin' for Mags no more," he said briefly.

"Good." She applied herself to her food, apparently satisfied.

Creed blinked. She wasn't gonna guilt trip him? No tearful accusations of doing nasty things to her innocent little self?

She didn't want to *talk* about it?

He liked that.

Then she looked up, giving him a pained look. "One thing, though...." she said, with the air of someone making a point. He tried not to roll his eyes. Here it came.

"If you ever, EVER again give Annie coffee and doughnuts for breakfast and then drop her off here, I'm going to tie your nuts in a bow behind your head," she said calmly. "And then Scott's going to dry-roast them. We clear?"

Creed blinked. He grinned. "Bad?"

"Did you see page three of her list?"

"Not yet...." He pulled out the list and flipped to page three.

167. No racing airplanes in the Blackbird.
168. No racing airplanes WITHOUT the Blackbird.
169. No borrowing Pietro's powers ever again.
170. Don't bite the postman.
171. Don't play 'Ferocious Ninja Death Warrior in the Land of the Infidel' ever again.

172. Ms Monroe is not an infidel.
173. No running around the house screaming incoherently at any time between ten at night and seven in the morning.
174. No calling the prison to taunt Magneto.
175. No making pointed comments about the presumed nature of the relationship between Magneto and the Professor.

Creed shuddered at 175 and stopped reading. He didn't read all that fast, so Annie and Clarice were already on their way back, Clarice holding one tray, Annie balancing one in each hand. "Hi!" she chirped at Marie. "Are you still mad?"

Marie smiled and shook her head. "As long as he promises never to feed you coffee and iced doughnuts again..."

Creed nodded. "No coffee and iced doughnuts," he said firmly. "And when did you bite the postman?"

Annie looked sheepish, which is a neat trick for a feline. "I was trying out Rahne's powers," she explained, pushing a massively overladen tray in front of him, and sitting down behind another one. "She's a werewolf, and I was running, and sniffing, and suddenly there was this guy in a blue uniform and it was sort of instinctive."

"Ah." Creed smiled reminiscently. It was a sight to make strong men tremble, and superheroes reach for their spandex. "I 'member the first time I saw a blue uniform after I lost my memory...."

Annie looked interested. "Did anyone ever find the bits?"

Creed shook his head. "Nah, didn't kill 'im. Still too groggy," he explained. "He tried to grab, I bit him, and then he ran away while I was trying to get the bits of arm and uniform out of my teeth."

"Ah." Annie nodded. "Polyester can be tricky."

Marie was watching them both with a sort of horrified fascination. Clarice was eating her peas. Creed had to give her that, she was a well-behaved little kid. Maybe she'd teach Annie something. "Leather's best, fer preference," he agreed absently. "Or velvet. Never bite someone wearin' silk, though."

"Why not?" Annie asked curiously.

"Because it's...." Creed found himself on the recieving end of a cold, red glare. "Nothin' I should be tellin' you here."

"Aww...." Annie sighed and stuffed half a potato into her mouth. "Wiwoo 'ell 'e aher?"

"Sure." He poked around in his tray, and decided to start with the steak.

Clarice looked up at him. "Mr Creed?"

"M?" he said, mouth full.

"Can I come and visit next weekend?" she asked shyly. "With Annie?"

"Annie's grounded," he pointed out.

"I won't be by next weekend," Annie said confidently. "By then they'll be dying to get rid of me."

Marie nodded, looking like she was trying not to laugh. "Especially if you do that thing again."

Annie rolled her eyes. "I promised, didn't I?"

Creed looked up. "What thing?"

"We can't tell you," Marie said, before Annie could do more than open her mouth. "Classified X-Men stuff."

Creed raised an eyebrow. "Annie, you doin' classified X-Men stuff?" he rumbled, sounding more than a little annoyed.

Annie looked up at the ceiling. "In a broad, wandering-where-I-shouldn't-be-wandering-and-cutting-bits-out-of-uniforms-I'm-not-supposed-to-touch sort of way...."

"Oh." He chuckled. "Sure, Clarice. You can come too."

"I don't mind," Creed said brightly. It wasn't in his nature to speak brightly, or even cheerfully, but it was flustering Cyclops so badly that he felt it was worth the effort.

"Yes... well... I appreciate that, but.... well..." Scott desperately tried to think of a diplomatic way of saying 'It's one thing with Annie, who I know can defend herself against things much worse than you, but Clarice is just a cute, clingy, nervous little girl and I really don't feel comfortable letting her go off with you. Um. Because you're evil, and so forth.'. He couldn't.

"I won't lead 'em into evil ways," Creed promised seriously. He hadn't had this much fun in years.

Scott ran out of words entirely, and had to sit down rather suddenly. He hoped it looked like he was just sitting down at his desk to be businesslike, but it probably didn't.

Creed examined the desk. It was kind of messy, covered in papers and books and pens and useful odds and ends, like bits of string and leftover eraser ends. One of the books looked familiar, and he picked it up.

'Managing Your Active Child', the title read, in big, encouraging blue letters. There was a little cartoon of a small blonde child smashing a potplant with one hand and hanging from the chandelier with the other. 'A helpful and encouraging guide to dealing with the problems of having a hyperactive child' said smaller letters at the bottom. Creed opened it. Several sections had been painstakingly underlined.

He noticed, with some amusement, that most of them were the same ones *he'd* underlined in his own copy.

Creed was not one of nature's scholars... it took him a long time to read anything more complicated than the sports page, and he had to sound out a lot of the words and use his finger to trace along the line... but after two weekends with Annie, he'd gone out to buy a selection of books on parenting, because anyone who spent any time at all with Annie tended to develop a deep and urgent desire for some sort of operating manual. Preferably one that told you where the 'off' switch was.

The books hadn't been a lot of help, although he *had* learned a few things about 'normal' American parents. They all said, and the media said, and the film industry said, and everybody KNEW, that what a parent wanted was a plucky, scrappy, intelligent, sporty kid with boundless energy and roguish charm. Creed, being lucky enough to actually have one, had only taken a few weeks to decide that what everybody *really* wanted was a quiet, well behaved, rather stupid child that did what it was told and didn't make trouble.

Since Annie had been grounded, he'd spent a bit of time with both of them - mostly because it ticked the X-Geeks off - and he'd gotten to know Clarice a bit better. Clarice was a very quite, very well behaved child, who did what she was told and didn't make any trouble, and while she wasn't precisely stupid, she certainly didn't have Annie's ferocious intellectual curiosity about everything in the entire universe. She was, in fact, rather shy and nervous, which weren't traits Creed usually approved of; but after a few months with Annie, he was seeing their good points.

Besides, Annie might have all the patience of an injured weasel and the tact of a red leather miniskirt, but she WAS a considerate child, insofar as this was possible for someone as sensitive as a brick. If something upset Clarice, then Annie didn't do it anymore.

He grinned, dropping the book back on the boy's desk and giving him an almost sympathetic look. "This one's no good," he said ruefully. "I already tried all of chapters three through seven."

Scott blinked, invisibly, and opened his mouth. He closed it again. He suddenly looked rather wistful. "Really? You're sure?"

Creed nodded, absently shoving his hair out of his eyes. He'd taken to bathing and wearing less conspicuous clothes lately, on the reasoning that if he went around in bare feet and wolf furs while he had Annie with him, he'd have the Child Welfare on his back in seconds. His hair was still long and shaggy, though. "There's this other book.... uh... 'How Not To Let Your Child Make You Crazy'. That one's better."

"Does it have anything that works on Annie?" Scott asked hopefully, abandoning what remained of his dignity. He loved Annie, he truly did, she was a very... special child. Exhaustingly so, sometimes.

"No, but it'll make ya feel better about failing." Creed sighed. He was obviously going to have to be reasonable in order to get what he wanted. He hoped he remembered how. "Look... I've always brought Annie back safe an' sound on Monday, ain't I? Why can't I take Clarrie too?"

"Because... Annie can look normal, and so can you, mostly, if you're careful, but Clarice is... well.... unmistakeably a mutant." Scott sighed. "It's just too dangerous for-"

Creed snorted. "Dangerous? You implyin' that I can't protect one bitty little kid?"

"Well..."

"Look, Summers..." Creed gritted his teeth and struggled to be polite. "Clarrie keeps Annie calmed down, okay? If I have her along, Annie don't go.... well....climbing the outsides o' buildings and such."

"Oh." Scott blinked. He thought about it for a moment. "Get them both back in time for class on Monday, then."

Creed blinked. "Just like that?"

Scott, even with his opaque glasses on, managed to convey an eyeroll. "It give ME heart-palpitations when she does those things. If there's a way to keep her from doing them, then I'm in favour of it on principle."

"Oh." Creed would admit, very quietly, to himself, that seeing Annie swinging by one hand from the top of a telephone pole had given *him* something of a start, too.

"But don't fill them up with junk, and don't buy them any dangerous toys, and don't forget that Clarice has to have a nightlight." Scott said hastily, in an attempt to reassert his authority. "And please try to convince Annie not to pierce her nose."

Creed blinked. "Pierce her nose?"

"She thinks it looks cool," Scott explained resignedly.

"Yeah, well, she can think again." Creed growled quietly. When you had a healing factor, piercings never healed right, and the constant low-level pain could play havoc with the reflexes after a while. "Definitely no piercings."

The boy smiled. "Good. We're in agreement, then."

There was a long pause.

They exchanged a rather horrified look "I won't tell anyone if you won't."

"Deal."

He was cold.

That wasn't unusual. He curled up tighter, spine curving easily into a posture impossible for a normal human, tucking himself into a tight ball. Cold or not, this wasn't such a bad time. He was still tired and sore from the last round of tests, which meant that it would be a while before they started another series. They didn't start starving him until right before the new testing series, so they'd feed him soon. No testing, food to eat.... he'd learned to look forward to times like this.

He was just dozing off when he heard a scuffle and a pathetic whimpering noise, followed by a sharp clang. Puzzled, he lifted his head. A grille of bars had appeared in the middle of his cell, halving the already small space. What the....

A scrawny bundle of grey cloth and wild dark hair was shoved into the other half of the cell. Ah. So this was why there was more than one door. He had wondered.

The bundle whimpered, curling up in a corner as if it was trying to hide. The cell's original occupant sniffed and scowled, growling a little. Not only was the bundle fresh from a series of tests... he could smell the chemicals... by the scent of him, he'd also been on the receiving end of what some of the guards called 'fun'.

There were two guards in the newly opened doorway, and another one... one of the scientists? Not one he knew. This one was short, with grey hair and a frustrated expression.

"You!" he snapped, pointing at the original occupant of the cell. "You see him?" The finger snapped round to point at the whimpering bundle.

The cell's owner nodded, uncurling himself and creeping over to the bars for a closer look. Pale skin on the thin hands, nothing showing of the face but brown eyes so reddened that they looked bloody, thick dark hair with a few bald patches shaved into it. For the electrodes - the cell's occupant had similar bald patches in his own lank blonde hair.

"You're to keep an eye on him," the scientist instructed.

"Don't let him do himself an injury and..." he gave the guards a malevolent look. "Don't let anyone else try anything either. I've already had one round of tests ruined, I won't stand for it again. Just... do what you always do."

The cell's occupant nodded. He'd neutered two guards and killed a third before they'd gotten the idea that it wasn't a good idea to try 'fun' with him. The scientists had approved, since the 'fun' messed up some of their tests. He supposed the bundle couldn't take care of itself the way he could, so he was supposed to guard it. That was fine by him.

Guarding was a nice easy job. "Guard?" he inquired, voice rusty with disuse.

"Guard, yes. Guard that." The scientist nodded approvingly. "Good boy." They left, closing the door, and after a moment the grille slid back up into the ceiling.

~rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr~

There was a rumbling noise coming from the den.

~rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr~

Logan frowned, ambling into the den, looking around for the noise. It sounded like a very quiet motor, or a baby thunderstorm, or....

Annie was sprawled on the couch, having her luxuriant blonde curls fussed with by Marie and Kitty. Clarice was draped over her legs, filing a ripped claw on one of Annie's sturdy little hands.

Annie, eyes closed, was purring blissfully at all the attention. "Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr........"

Logan smiled ruefully. The blonde girl looked utterly absurd, sprawled out like a dozy lion and purring like a kitten, but he was quite sure she didn't care at all. She was being groomed, and enjoying it. He couldn't blame her... there was nothing like having your hair brushed to foster the sort of drowsy contentment that he was much too macho to admit to liking.

Hmp.

"Having fun?"

"Yup," Annie said sleepily, leaving off purring for a moment. "'s nice, having your hair brushed."

"And you've got gorgeous hair," Kitty sighed enviously. "I wish I was blonde...."

"It'd look fake on you," Marie said, shaking her head. "Trust me, you'd go completely sallow with blonde hair. Stick with the dark brown and the peaches and cream complexion."

Kitty made a pleased noise, and Clarice looked up. "Brown looks good on you," she said seriously. "Like me and purple. I'd look silly if my hair was yellow or brown."

Annie made an agreeable little purr. "Right. I'm th' only one fair enough to pull off the cute blonde curls." She opened one eye thoughtfully. "I wish I had brown eyes like Kitty's, though. The yellow just looks snakey."

Logan made tracks immediately. Once teenage girls got into the hair-and-eyes-gosh-I-wish-I-had talk, there was no reasoning with them.

He slipped through the kitchens onto the tiny corner of porch that led off them, and caught Scott in mid-illicit beer. Logan's beer, as it happened "Drinkin', one eye? Jeannie forget t' starch yer tighty-whities this morning?"

"Not now, Logan," Scott said crankily. "I just spent three hours trying to explain the concept of slavery as practiced in early America to Annie, and if I hadn't bribed Marie and Kitty to make her go play hairdresser I'd still be sitting there."

"Oh." Logan forgave the stolen beer immediately. "Sounds like load's o' fun."

"It was the racial predjudice that stumped me," Scott said mournfully. "You know you have to be careful to tell her that it's not a good idea before you go into details.... and I was trying to explain the reasoning behind the belief that white people were better than black people, and of course there WASN'T any reasoning, just blindness and prejudice, and Annie kept trying to tell me how stupid it was and I was trying to tell her that *I* didn't think all this, and then she asked me if it was all in the past now, and...." Scott sighed. "I know it sounds silly, but I hate telling her that there are things like that still in the world. She's so.... innocent, in some ways."

Logan nodded. "And in other ways, she's a psyochotic little shit," he said philosophically. Scott choked on his purloined beer. Logan grinned. "Most kids are."

"Logan, they're not-"

"Wasn't it you who got jello dumped down his pants by an unknown perpetrator yesterday while the entire student body did a distraction?"

Scott paused. Scott nodded. "Good point."

The cell's original occupant crept cautiously towards the bundle, sniffing at the air. Male, yes, and young... many tests, recently, he could smell the pain and blood and chemicals... and still very frightened. Of him?

"Go away!" the bundle whimpered, scrabbling away into another corner. The cell's occupant sat back on his heels and gazed at it... him... thoughtfully. Yes, afraid of him. It had been a long time since something that wasn't a guard had been afraid of him. Back when he hadn't been in the Facility, when there had been Sky and Trees and People who weren't Guards or Scientists or Subjects.

A very long time ago indeed.

He crept forward, staying low to the ground in what part of him knew was a non-threatening posture. Paws kept under him, didn't want the bundle to think he was going to grab it. He extended his head a little, sniffing a little, and whined softly. Go on, don't be afraid... I won't bite you...

The bundle sobbed, pulling its knees up against itself. It was so small and helpless, so frightened... the cell's occupant felt an unaccustomed urge to look after this little helpless thing, to take care of it. He whined agan, sniffing at the thin hand. "Won't bite," he promised, the words coming hard. He wasn't used to talking any more. "On guard."

The bundle lifted its head, giving him a pathetic look. "What're you?" it sniffled, eyes still leaking tears.

"Subject 11-329476/B," he said proudly. He rememebered his number. Sometimes he forgot it, after the tests, but it always came back to him again.

"I....they s-said I'm 23-234285/K," the bundle gulped. "But 'm bloody not.... 'm a person, not a number..."

11-329476/B cocked his head, looking puzzled. That reminded him of something... before the Facility, he'd been called something else..... something shorter....

"Kyle," he said, after a long pause. "Name's Kyle. Think so." The words were coming easier now.... it was like riding a.... a..... a thing you didn't forget how to ride.

The bundle made a little gulping noise. "Is it?" It sat up, revealing an unexpectedly beautiful face, even all bruised and messy with tears... and an odd metallic contraption clamped to its chest. "I... I'm Jonny Starsmore." He gave Kyle a pitiful look. "How.... how long will we be here?"

Kyle shrugged, shifting a bit closer and... still sleepy... resting his chin on his forepaws. "Been here a long, long time. Don't know."

Jonny started to cry again, thin, hopeless sounds, and Kyle yawned, wriggling around to rest his head on the thin, bare foot. "Food soon," he said hopefully.

Jonny tensed, but didn't pull away from the weight on his feet. Guards didn't go much for feet, Kyle supposed. "Then what?" he said hopelessly.

Kyle shrugged and yawned. "Sleep. Then more food. Time after the tests is the best."

"The guards-"

"Won't come here. Scared of me." Kyle poked the other boy's arm, a little crossly. "Shush. Sleeping." And he curled up again, head pillowed on warm feet, and fell fast asleep.

Jonny started awake with a whimper. Something was *touching* him something was *on* him get it off get it *off*...

He hit out, and a pained yelp pulled him the rest of the way out of sleep. Oh, bugger. He'd kicked Kyle again. "Sorry," he murmured. His voice sounded funny in his own ears. Sort of... hollow. Still. A lot of things felt and sounded strange here.

"Ow!" Kyle sat up, rubbing his elbow and giving Jonny a wounded look. Someone less familiar with the odd, bony face and slit-pupiled yellow eyes might have classified the look as 'sharp as a teaspoon', but Jonny was getting the hang of his cellmate's visual cues, and this one was the what-did-you-do-that-for-you-crazy-Brit look.

"Sorry," he said again, sitting up too and reaching over to give Kyle's bony shoulder a little pat. "Dream." He didn't have to specify that it had been a *bad* dream. There wasn't any other kind here.

Kyle nodded, making a little barking noise that usually meant 'that's okay' or 'you didn't mean it'. Jonny smiled wearily. "Thanks. Wanna sleep some more?"

Kyle shook his head, dirty blond hair flopping into his eyes, and settled into an odd sitting position that balanced most of his weight on his tailbone. "Wasn't sleeping. Was thinking."

Jonny blinked. Kyle spent a lot of time gazing thoughtfully into the middle distance, but he rarely talked about it. "Thinking 'bout anythin' special?"

"This place," Kyle said thoughtfully. "It's in America. I figured that out." He gave Jonny a considering look. "I'm Canadian. But that's still pretty close. You're from England. That's a lot further away."

This was a staggeringly long speech, from Kyle. Jonny followed it through, filling in the skipped bits in his head. "Yer worried," he said slowly. "'Cause bringing a Canadian into the US, that's not a big leap, but bringin' in a Brit... this isn't just a local organization. This is something big."

Kyle nodded. "Bad sign," he said thoughtfully, curling up on the floor and resting his chin on his toes.

Jonny nodded, reaching out to scritch behind Kyle's ear. His friend made a happy noise. "Very bad." He bit his lip. "You think... they'll kill us?"

Kyle tilted his head a little, so the scratch found an itchy spot. Jonny liked the cute-puppy act, so Kyle played it up for him. Look at me, I'm just a big ol' friendly doggy, not anything scary or dangerous, just a big blond Rover. Woof. "Dunno." He gave his friend a long look. Tall he might be, but if Jonny was more than thirteen or fourteen he'd eat his toe claws. Kyle didn't know how old he was, anymore... he didn't remember much of anything anymore that didn't have to do with the Facility... but he was pretty sure he was older than that. So, older than Jonny, and not nearly as beautiful, even with the funny thing strapped to his chest. Guess who *wasn't* the vulnerable one in the pairing. "I'll fight 'em if they try," he said comfortingly, giving Jono's knee a pat.

Jonny nodded. He still got jumpy if anyone else touched him, or if something touched him while he was asleep, but Kyle was in many ways so profoundly nonhuman that it just didn't matter. He fell into the same catagory as something furry jumping into your lap, not.... anything else. Besides, it was hard to be intimidated by someone who flopped on his back and made happy growly noises if you scratched his head. "Good."

Kyle nodded, and rested his chin on his feet again. He blew air out through his nose thoughtfully. He hadn't wanted to worry Jonny, but he'd been smelling far fewer scents in the air lately. Almost all the Subjects were gone, the Scientists were fewer, and so were the guards...

That was different. That was new. And anything new, in a place like this, was almost certain to be bad, sooner or later.

Especially the part where they were getting rid of Subjects. That really wasn't good, if you were one of the few... or two... Subjects left.

"COOL!!"

Scott winced a little at the loud shriek that issued from an upstairs window, and peeked a bit nervously through the front door. Anything that got Annie that excited would have to be...

... a sleek, shining black convertible, glistening venomously in the drive. Scott tried not to salivate. It was beautiful, it was perfect, it gave the impression of speed even while standing still, it was a glittering, wicked beauty of a car-

~Scott? You're panting, love....~ Jean giggled, coming up behind him and resting her chin on his shoulder.

"Uh-huh..." Scott said weakly, from the depths of the wildest mechanical lust he'd experienced since he'd first seen his beloved bike. The car was just *sitting* there, in the drive, begging to be taken out on the road.... ooohhhhhh...... the temptation......

There was a smug chuckle from an inconsequential humanoid blur somewhere to his left. "Like th' car, huh, one-eye?"

"Guh...." Scott said dazedly, some strange force dragging him bodily down the steps towards the car. He didn't fight it. Hello, beautiful.... don't mind me, I'm just drooling over that perfect body... itching to caress that beautiful steering wheel...

Jean chuckled ruefully, watching her fiance circle the car with an adoring look on his face. "You know, I honestly think that if Logan had given Scott a choice before he took off the first time, Scott would really have been torn between letting him take the bike, or just steal me."

Creed gave her a long, considering look. "'s a nice bike," he said thoughtfully, clearly understanding Scott's potential dilemma.

"He might take a leaf out of Logan's book, you know," Jean grinned. Scott was leaning over to look inside the car, making little happy noises.

"And get his blood all over the all-leather interior?" Creed said brightly. "Nah. HEY, GIRLS! GET IN THE DAMN CAR ALREADY!!"

Annie and Clarice zipped through the front door, flinging their dufflebags into the back of the car with an abandon that made Scott cry out an anguished warning to be CAREFUL of the leather! "We're ready, Dad!" Annie crowed, vaulting into the front passenger seat. "Where'd you get the car?"

"Outta storage." Creed ambled down the steps, giving the car a fond little pat. "Haven't driven her in a while."

"It's pretty," Clarice said admiringly. Behind his glasses, Scott gave her a horrified look. Pretty? PRETTY? Was she BLIND? This car wasn't *pretty*, it was lust on wheels!

Annie patted the side of the car, getting sticky fingerprints on the perfect gleam of the paintwork. Scott whimpered under his breath. "'s cool. And shiny."

Creed nodded, sliding into the car and curling his fingers lovingly around the wheel. "Well, I can't take both o' you on the bike," he shrugged. He glared at Scott until he moved a few more inches away from the car, then peeled out of the drive, barely giving Annie time to wave before they were gone in a flurry of gravel.

"I want a car like that one," Scott said forlornly, watching it go.

"Maybe the Professor will buy you one for your birthday," Jean said comfortingly, struggling not to collapse in hysterical laughter right there in the drive.

Scott brightened a bit. "You think so?" he said hopefully.

Jean collapsed into hysterical laughter right there in the drive.

Kyle had paced the length of the cell more times than he could count, tried to sleep, failed, and paced again until his paws hurt before Jonny was brought back.

He was pushed into the cell, too groggy to walk alone, and he crumpled on the floor, curling up into a tight little ball. The guard snickered. "Tired out, huh? Too b-" The smirk dropped off his face as Kyle lunged at him, snarling. "Shit!" The cell door slammed shut.

Kyle growled again, keeping it up until the footsteps were well down the hall. Then the growl softened to a gentle grumble of concern, and he nudged gently at his friend. "Jonny?"

Jonny whimpered, curling up tighter. Kyle reached out, smoothing his hair gently. "Is okay," he said softly. "Is just me. Dog boy. On guard."

Jonny lifted his head, biting his lip hard enough to draw a drop of blood, tears still trickling down his cheeks. "K-K-Kyle?"

Kyle nodded, judging that the time was right to hug his friend gently. "You okay?"

Jonny didn't hug back, but he didn't pull away, either. "There was... more tests," he said slowly, unhappily. "I don't know what they want... I'd tell them what they wanted to know, 'f I just knew what it is...."

Kyle shrugged, automatically rocking a little. "Tests," he said, a wealth of disdain in the word. "Who knows what they want? 's all just tests." He smoothed the matted hair gently. "Guard try anything?"

Jonny shuddered convulsively, but shook his head. "Just.... said some stuff..." he whispered.

"Ehn." Kyle shrugged, giving his friend one last hug then letting go, curling up beside him in his best Faithful Hound impression. "Too scared to do more'n say. I'd get 'em, elsewise."

Jonny nodded, resting an absent hand on Kyle's curved back. It was funny... before he'd come here, he hadn't been much of a touchy person, especially not with other guys. His parents hadn't been huggy types, especially not his father, and it just didn't feel quite right. And after... what had happened... he'd been firmly convinced that he never wanted to come into physical contact with another human being ever again. For some reason, though, Kyle's combination of amiable acquaintance and golden retriever had Jonny scritching behind his ears, ruffling his hair and, on several occasions, using him as a foot rest. There'd been a hug or two, and that had made him a bit nervous, but.. well... to put it mildly, Kyle smelled pretty damn doggy, and there was nothing like a lungful of unwashed pooch to take your mind off certain things.

Kyle snuffled softly, and Jonny smiled. Leaning back against the wall, he closed his eyes, and for once he didn't stir even when Kyle apparently got sick of his own feet, and rested his chin on Jonny's knee.

Clarice kicked thoughtfully at the back of Annie's seat. "Where are we going?" she ventured. She'd wondered about that, but hadn't quite dared to ask, in case someone decided she couldn't go after all.

"I dunno. Dad, where are we going?" Annie asked, poking her father gently with one clawed finger. "We're going the wrong way for th' city."

"I rented a cabin," he grunted, batting at her hand in a pleased sort of way. "Lotsa.... trees to climb, and stuff."

"Ooh. Yay!" Annie bounced. "And bunnies?"

Creed nodded. "You can catch yer own breakfast, lunch, 'n dinner if you want," he said, reaching over to ruffle her curly hair. Clarice went a bit pale, and he tossed a glance at her over his shoulder. "Don't worry, kid. Got some ordinary stuff fer you."

"Oh. Thank you," Clarice said politely.

Creed shrugged. Obviously he had to feed the kid. He'd..... well.... in a vague sort of way, taken responsibility for her. Just for the weekend. So, obviously, food had to be provided. "Hope ya like stuff in cans."

Clarice nodded. She'd lived on the streets long enough not to be a picky eater. "Is there any canned spaghetti?" she asked hopefully.

"I think so." Creed shrugged again, wondering if he'd gotten enough stuff. He'd gotten what would be about enough for Annie, and Annie ate more than most human adults. Fast metabolism, or something.

"If there is, I want some too." Annie leaned over her door, so the wind riffled through her hair. "Go fast!"

Without any conscious thought, Creed's hand flashed out and jerked Annie back down into her seat. "Don't do that!" he growled. "And put on yer seatbelt!"

"But-"

"You wanna get pulled up?" he demanded. "'Cause if a cop sees you hangin' out of the car like that-"

"Oh, okay." Annie pouted, but buckled her seatbelt. Clarice had already buckled herself in, Creed noted gratefully, and hadn't pushed the sash part of the belt down around her waist, the way Annie immediately did.

HE wasn't buckled in, of course, but that was neither here nor there.

"I'm bored," Annie said, after a minute. "Are we gonna do anything interesting?"

Creed rolled his eyes. "Put on the radio if yer bored," he said, before he thought. "Aw, no....."

It was over an hour before he and Annie managed to agree on a station... classic rock, something they could sing along to, loudly and out of tune. Clarice just sat in the back, being nice and quiet like a good girl.

After a while, it occured to him that Clarice might also be bored. Fortunately, there'd been an officiously helpful shop assistant in the store where he'd stocked up on supplies, and she'd inadvertently saved herself from an early grave by making a couple of suggestions about little girls and long car trips. "Hey, Clarice. Bored?"

She nodded. She really was a surprisingly cute kid.... she had this serious, wise little look which he, for one, considered a lot more appealing than the empty-headed expression you got on most kids. "A little. But I don't mind."

Creed smiled, a rather fearsome expression. "There's a bag on the seat beside you," he directed. "Got some stuff for you to keep busy with."

Clarice blinked, but obediently dug around in the bag. Paperback books, some legos, some felt-tip pens, some crayons and..... ooh. Oooooooooooooooooohhhhhhhh! She grabbed the colouring book and dug through the crayons to find the pink. That was the reliable thing about Barbie colouring books. You definitely needed the pink.

Much later, after they'd had dinner (stew) and gotten ready for bed (washed off any obvious sticky bits) Creed leaned back in his armchair and silently congratulated himself on the marshmallows. Oh, sure, they'd hit Annie like a ton of bricks at around two am tomorrow morning, but as long as she didn't wake him or Clarice up - and she'd promised she wouldn't - he didn't really care. Annie was perfectly capable of amusing herself for a few hours, and she might even bring him back a rabbit.

The girls were both sitting crosslegged on the worn rug in front of the fireplace, toasting their marshmallows with the assiduous care that seemed to come naturally to both of them. Clarice was eating only pink marshmallows, Annie only white. Good thing he'd gotten a mixed bag. Also a good thing that he loathed the things himself, or there might have been a brawl over them.

"It'll catch fire if you do that," Annie said warningly, as Clarice's marshmallow got too close to the flames.

"Oh. Okay." Clarice pulled it back a centimetre or two. "This is fun."

"And tasty." Annie already had a sticky ring around her mouth. She was as messy an eater as he was, her father thought rather proudly. "But yeah, definitely fun. Are you having fun, Dad?"

Creed shrugged, and sipped his beer. "I ain't hatin' it," he conceded. He watched the girls pick at the sticky, melty things with apparent contentment, kept perfectly happy for the whole evening by a dollar-fifty worth of candy. Hah. This kid thing wasn't so hard.

The next morning, he decided that he was sticking by his assessment. Kids were easier to handle than pretty much anything else he'd tried to cope with, up to and including household pets. They didn't pee in the corners, they could feed themselves if he left food where they could reach it, and if he was cranky he could tell them to piss off until lunchtime... and they *did*. He could definitely get used to this.

"AAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGGGHH!!"

He looked up.

"IT'S OKAY, DAD! IT WAS ONLY A SNAKE, AND I MUSHED IT!!"

He smiled contentedly and went back to drinking his beer and watching a squirrel try to decide if it was worth getting close enough to him to steal some of the nuts the girls had left at the other end of the porch. Yep, this parenting thing was a cinch.

Some time later, the girls pelted around the corner of the cabin and jumped on him. "Dad, Dad, guess what we did!?" Annie yelled happily, bouncing around on him as if he was a springboard.

Creed took in the water all over them, the muddy feet, and the fish hanging from Annie's hand. "Tapdanced?"

"Only if what Clarice did when she saw the snake counts," Annie said, grinning. "We caught a fish! Well, we caught two, but one was really little so I just et it right away. I got a bone stuck in my teeth, but Clarice pulled it out for me."

"Annie caught them, really," Clarice said honestly, hanging off his arm and getting his sleeve damp and muddy. "But I helped."

"She laid on a rock and dibbled a stick in the water so they'd come up to the top," Annie agreed. "Can we have our fish for lunch?"

"Sure," Creed said agreeably. Fresh fish was pretty good, and they could always cook some of it for Clarice. "What else?"

"Lucky Charms!"

"Carrots!"

"Okay," he agreed, since that sounded pretty well balanced to him. "But I'm havin' steak."

Scott was waiting on the steps when they got back, ostensibly because he wanted to make sure everything was all right before he let the girls go to class. And, he admitted privately, because he wanted to see the car again.

He nearly screamed when it pulled up, dusty, dirty, with a chip in the paintwork and two grubby kids climbing all over the seats. But he wasn't called 'fearless leader' for nothing, and none of his wounded horror showed in his voice. "Annie? Clarice? Did you have fun?"

"Yeah!" Annie rocketed out of the car without bothering to open a door, and hugged him happily. She smelled of pine needles and mud and what Scott suspected was three days of only washing the obviously sticky bits. "We climbed trees and chased stuff and I caught fish and Clarice nearly caught a bunny and Dad let us eat anything we wanted to and we had at least one vegetable every day like you said and can I be a little bit late for English class 'cause I REALLY need a shower and I know the play anyway?"

Scott chuckled. "I think you'd better," he said mildly. "Clarice?"

"I had one this morning," Clarice said in an unusually cheerful voice, being hoisted out of the car like a sack of potatoes by an amused-looking Creed. "There was only enough hot for one person."

"Oh." Scott decided not to inquire further. "Did you have fun too?"

Clarice nodded, her pale little face more animated than he'd ever seen it. "It was great! There were hundreds and thousands of trees, and we could make as much noise as we wanted to!"

"Spent one whole mornin' racing around in th' woods shrieking like banshees," Creed noted, tossing the dufflebags out of the car. He, too, looked happier than Scott had ever seen him, most of the tense suspicion gone from his body-language. On second thought, though, that was perfectly reasonable... after a weekend with Annie, especially if she'd been allowed to eat whatever she wanted, 'tense' was a far less likely option than, say 'limp as a cooked noodle'.

Annie nodded. "We were being wolves," she explained. "Only howling's a lot harder than it sounds."

"I'm sure it is." Scott smiled and shooed the girls gently. "Go upstairs and get cleaned up," he said firmly. "I'll get your bags."

"Okay!" They scampered off, and he gave the car a yearning look. He wanted to take it into the garage and wash it off and polish it carefully and sponge all the dust and dirt off the leather and buff each and every bit of chrome until it was perfect again.

Creed grinned at him. "Nice, huh?" he said proudly.

"Yeah..." Scott said wistfully. The professor had been firm. He couldn't have a car like that one. The students would swipe it and kill themselves.

Creed grinned. "'F I was you," he said conversationally, "I'd be lockin' the door on Annie and Clarice 'til I handed over the car as ransom for lettin' me have 'em."

"I won't say the idea didn't occur to me," Scott said honestly. Then he shrugged. "Lucky for you I'm not you."

Creed nodded, and swung into the car and away without saying another word. But he'd grinned, and it had been a bit more friendly and a bit less menacing than usual.

Kyle wobbled into the cell, and fell over.

Jonny waited tensely for the guards to close the door, and the moment they did, he dropped to his knees beside his friend, turning him over gently so he was on his back. "You orright, mate?" Kyle was as limp as a wet tissue, eyes glazed and fingers twitching a bit. "Kyle? You okay?"

Kyle gave him a dazed little smile. "Fiiiiiiine....." he managed, giving Jonny a limp little wave that was probably meant to be reassuring. Then, for no apparent reason, he folded up like a swiss army knife. "Ooooo...."

Jonny rolled his eyes, and uncreased Kyle into a more comfortable-looking position. "What'd they GIVE you this time?" He grabbed a determinedly flailing leg and held it down on the floor until it gave in.

"D'no...." Kyle said blearily, snuffling at Jonny's arm. "M' woooooozyyyy..."

Jonny couldn't help laughing a bit as he wiped a bit of drool off Kyle's chin. "Yer high as a kite, mate," he said, grinning as the tip of Kyle's tongue flopped out of the corner of his mouth, giving him an idiotic expression. "Nice, is it?"

"Had be'er..." Kyle decided, after thinking about it for a while. "Th' give me a nee'le..." He folded up again, and made a whuffling noise.

Jonny sighed, and untangled him again. "You get all the fun jobs," he said, without rancour. "Sleepy?"

Kyle's eyes crossed. "No..." he mumbled drowsily. "Th' floor's col'..."

Jonny chuckled softly, and tugged Kyle around a bit until he was stretched out reasonably flat, and parallel to the wall. Then he sat down, leaning comfortably against the wall, and rested Kyle's head on his lap. "Better?"

"Yeh, mush..." Kyle mumbled, curling up in a ball and snuggling his ear against Jono's leg. He fell asleep immediately, leaving a rather bemused Jonny patting the matted hair awkwardly and wondering when, exactly, he'd turned into someone's mum.

"The subject responded precisely as we hoped," Doctor Allejandro said cheerfully. She was a small, chubby, friendly looking woman, the very last person you'd ever suspect of performing illegal experiments on mutants in a secret laboratory. Which, of course, was one of the reasons she was allowed to keep doing it, even now, when funding from the Atticus Tremane Foundation had dried up, and staff cut to a minimum. Besides, she was an excellent biochemist. "Of course, we'll have to do more testing, with higher and lower dosages and so forth, but so far there have been no unacceptable side-effects."

By rights, the man she was talking to, the head of what was left of their department, should have rubbed his hands together, laughing in a sinister fashion as he purred an 'Exxxxcelent' or possible a 'Precisely as I expected'. But he just nodded, pushing his glasses absently up onto the top of his head, and chewed on the end of his pen. "Oh, good. How long before it can be used in the field?"

"Oh, another week, maximum." Doctor Allejandro gently pulled the pen out of his mouth. "NOT in the lab, Professor," she reminded him gently, for at least the five hundredth time. "Don't put anything from the lab in your mouth, remember?"

He looked abashed, and nodded meekly. "It's working these late nights," he said sheepishly, putting his hands behind his back. "I get tired, and distracted, and there goes the old oral fixation, hm?"

Nina Allejandro nodded, giving him a little pat on the shoulder. "I know," she said soothingly. "You should get more sleep."

"But we're so CLOSE..." Professor Epstein said fretfully. "We've cut our subjects down to a minimum, freed up the holding areas... did we cut too many subjects, do you think?"

"Oh, no. If anything, we were conservative." Nina looked up at the list thumbtacked to her cork-board. "Let's see... look, two still here, and six in the holding facility in Canada. That'll be more than enough, and we only really need the feral one and the psi right now."

Epstein nodded, brightening. "And once we've figured the right dosage to counteract a healing factor, we can pick up more," he said happily. "My information places three of them in one area... let me see... Oh, I don't remember. That school place, with all the mutants. You know the one."

Nina nodded. "Somewhere near New York, right?"

"That's it." Epstein nodded happily. "And the one in Vancouver's going to get picked up any day now." Now he did rub his hands together, like a child anticipating a treat. "Subjects with healing factors, can you imagine? Such possibilities!"

Nina could, indeed, imagine, and her fingers were twitching at the thought. "Oh, yes, Professor," she said happily. "And I hear one of them has a metal-bonded skeleton, too! Fancy that!"

"Oh, you tease me, Doctor Allejandro," Epstein said, wagging a finger at her with a roguish smile. "That can't possibly be true."

Nina chuckled. "Oh, but it is! One of those early Canadian outposts, you know... the one we got the information on healing factors from."

Epstein looked as if all his Christmases had come at once. "A whole week?" he said mournfully.

"If we use the psi as well, I can have the final testing finished in five days." Nina chuckled. "I'll pencil him in, shall I?"

"Oh, DO, Doctor Allejandro, dear, do..."

"I want a model rocket," Annie demanded, leaning forward so far that she'd have fallen over if Creed hadn't been holding onto her overall-straps.

Creed tightened his grip on that convenient handle, and thought harsh thoughts at Cyclops. Why couldn't he have interested her in something easy that didn't need assembly, like toy guns? "Well...."

Annie pushed forward, physically dragging him a few inches closer to the toyshop. "Pleeeeaaase?"

Creed wavered. "I dunno..." He looked down. Clarice was standing beside him, being a good girl and not running off anywhere.... and giving him the cutest, widest eyed, most hopeful look he'd ever seen. "Wanna go look at the toys?" he said resignedly. Clarice nodded, and he let go of Annie's overalls. She fell over, and glared at him. "Oh, okay. But don't break nothin'!"

He followed them into the toyshop gloomily, wishing they were old enough to have a nice, easy-to-deal-with interest in drugs and wild dancing.

"Oooh! Ooh!" Annie raced up and down the aisles, grabbing toy after fascinating toy, only to abandon it the minute the next one caught her eye. "Daddy, I want a racing car! And oooh! Can I have one of those singing fish things? And-"

Creed refused to be won over by the cuteness of being called 'Daddy'. She'd only picked it up from TV. "You can have ONE toy," he said firmly. He'd learned this from TV too. You couldn't buy them as many toys as they wanted. They could have one. Yes. One. That was how you did it.

"But..." Annie looked around at the cornucopia of potential purchases and gave him a pathetic look. "But there's so MANY!"

"One," he said firmly. "I mean it."

Annie did another circuit of the toystore, slower this time, obviously struggling to decide on just one toy. That'd hold her for a while. Belatedly, he remembered that he'd brought another kid in with him, and looked around for her.

Clarice was in the soft toy section, systematically picking up and hugging every teddy-bear they had, one at a time, then putting them back. Creed cracked a small smile. She was such a good kid. Quiet as a mouse and always doing just what she was told. "Like the bears, huh?"

She nodded, looking around and giving him a little smile. Her hand lingered on one particularly sickening fuzzy creation, with pink fur, blue eyes, and a little pink and white dress. Creed tried not to make a revolted face. Ur, yuck.... "Ya like that one?" he asked, a bit forlornly.

Clarice nodded. She had an unhealthy fascination with the colour pink, Creed had realized, despite all Annie's efforts to convince her of the virtues of yellow or green. "It's pretty," she whispered shyly.

Creed wavered. It wasn't like she was actually HIS kid. She was technically a ward of the school. And presumably one of the simpering women they had hanging around bought toys for the kids. Probably dozens of them. Then he took another look at the quiet, too-old little girl, and sighed. Oh, what the hell. "You can have it if you want it," he said, with what was, for him, noble self-sacrifice.

Clarice did her thing where she lit up like a little pink bit of neon. "I can?"

"If that's the one ya want." He thought wistfully of the Good Old Days, when he'd still run with Magneto and there'd been plenty of booze and violence and cheap women. He'd been... well, not happy, he wasn't sure if he'd know happy if it bit him... but he'd enjoyed himself. Now suddenly there was a whole new set of instincts kicking in.

He was pretty sure he'd never wanted to be a father. Anything longer ago than twenty or thirty years faded into a haze that he was pretty sure was a period he'd spent eating raw pigeon and yowling at the moon, but parenthood was something that, even then, couldn't have held much appeal. Now here he was, buying toys and promising to let Clarice go see some sickening Disney movie about dalmations while he and Annie went to something with plenty of healthy violence in it. And he kept feeding them. And he'd even, to his eternal shame, gotten up once to see if the noise he'd heard was one of them wandering around in the middle of the night. He didn't *want* to discover he had a soft, vulnerable underbelly, or whatever it was you called the parenting stuff. It just seemed to be automatic, like ripping the testicles off any guy stupid enough to hit on a broad that Creed was hitting on first. You had kids, or cubs, or whatever his instincts thought they were, and suddenly you got tangled up in all this caring shit.

And he was trying as hard as he could to hate it, and he couldn't do that, either, because in some fundamental way he was doing what his subconscious knew was the right thing for him to be doing.

In fact, he had a horrible suspicion that it was making him happy.

And on *top* of all that, Clarice was hugging him!

"Yeah, yeah..." he patted her shoulders awkwardly, then pried her off. She didn't seem to mind, just gave him a big smile, still clutching the bear. "Go tell Annie to hurry the hell up, or I'm leaving her behind."

"You need to puke again?"

"Mmm."

"Orright, come here..." Jonny gave his friend a sympathetic look, and held the lank blonde hair back as Kyle lost another meal down the hole in the floor that served them as a loo. They'd gone back at least a week's worth of meals, so far. "That bad?"

Kyle curled up on the floor, making a weak gurgling noise. "Ever had... a t'kila hangover?"

Jonny nodded, making a face.

"Good. Ever had... oh, god... a god-what-the-hell-did-I-drink hangover? Bottles wi' worms an' stuff?"

"Oh, god. Only once."

"Combine 'em. And throw in ge'ing your head bashed onna bar a few times." Kyle whimpered pathetically. "That stuff's bloody awfu'..."

"I know." Jonny's reactions to the new 'stuff' that was being tested on them, oddly, hadn't been nearly as severe as Kyle's. Mostly he just had a splitting headache, and an odd tingly feeling in his stomach. Kyle seemed about ready to retch up the claws on his toes. "Want some water?"

"Yeh..."

"Got a theory," Jonny offered tentatively, going to get the water. There was a little plastic spout thing that came out of the wall. If you pressed the button, water came out. If you broke it, it didn't get fixed for days, so you were careful with it or you went thirsty. He managed to get a bit of the water into the small plastic cup Kyle'd nicked from the last round of tests but one - they'd known, presumably, but a cup was hardly a deadly weapon, so they'd let them keep it - and he brought it to his friend. "Fairy sips, mate, or you'll puke again."

"Know that." Kyle sucked up a miniscule amount of water, and gave the younger boy a vaguely interested look. "Wha' theory?"

"This stuff... I reckon it does something to mutants. That's why they're testing it on us." Jonny squatted next to him, touching his chest where, until this last series of tests, an odd contraption had been fastened.  "I can sort of tell what people are thinking, a bit. That's why they put that thing on me, so I couldn't do it to them. Now, though... they took it off, and I can't hear a bloody thing. Even less than I could b'fore me powers kicked in, 'cause I always had a touch of it. Now... nothing."

"M'kes sense." Kyle took another slow sip of water. "S' why'm I puking so much?"

"I dunno." Jonny eyed Kyle doubtfully. "Unless yer mutant power's Super Efficient Digestion, I can't see why it'd bother you so much."

"M' neither." Kyle sighed, and rested his hot cheek on the nice cool floor. "Feel sorry f'r the poor bugger they're pla'ing to use 't on, though.."

Logan gritted his teeth, and told himself to relax. Yes. Relax. You remember relaxing. It's what happens after that fifteenth beer. The part right before some shithead says something you gotta pound him for. Remember that part?

His body thought about that for a minute, and came back with the assertion that there had been no beer, so he obviously couldn't mean it.

I do too bloody mean it. Don't make me do something nasty to you. It's a nice day, and look, there's Marie, all cute and big eyed, like one of those revolting toddlers on a cheesy calender, and we're teaching her to play poker. This is a Relaxing Thing.  So relax.

Fuck you, his body told him, his instincts making affirmative noises in the background. There's something wrong. You know it and we know it. Get off your fat ass and go search the perimeter.

I already did that. Four times. And I've turned on all the security doohickies, and told the Professor that I think something might possibly be going to happen. I'm not getting up again. This is the weekend. It's me-and-Marie time, without Creed's brats hanging around.

Fine. Be like that. Don't say we didn't warn you.

"Logan?" Marie gave him a puzzled little look. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine." He gave up on the argument with himself, and focused on the cards again. "Okay, now remember, never palm the face cards or the aces. People remember playin' those. Go for the high half o' the number cards, out of the cards that get discarded, and try for pairs and flushes. Most folks don't pay much attention to the eights and nines, unless they got a pair or something."

"Right." Marie nodded. She'd lost so much of her pocket-money to Bobby, John, and the new kid, Remy, in illicit late-night poker games that all the other teachers either didn't know about, or pretended that they didn't, that Logan was insisting that she had to learn how to cheat properly. "And *I* pay attention to every card that's in my hand, right?"

"Right. And don't be afraid to sing out if a card you know was in your hand a minute