Alas, I have far more beginnings than endings written. Here are some of these sad, story-less opening bits.

This is *not* a TTWY/JTWYA challenge. I hope to finish at least some of these. Eventually. Please no stealing.

Needful Wish

"Don't *ever* come near my daughter again!" Mr. Sefton shouted. "Don't carry her books, don't talk to her, don't pass her notes. I've already told your principal to watch you. I swear, if I ever have so much as a suspicious feeling, I will get an official restraining order."

Amanda pressed the stop button on the tiny recorder. "That's the important part."

"I-" Kurt stared at the machine. "I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything," Amanda advised. "Talking will only get us in more trouble."

Kurt sighed, his eyes wandering across the courtyard. Despite the heavy clouds threatening to drop their water at any moment, a few students had claimed picnic tables. He hadn't bought any lunch yet, courtesy of Amanda's urgent but vague statements about something important she had to show him. He wondered how many pairs of eyes might be idly gazing back at him, how many observing more closely.

Looking back at Amanda, he signed ~I love you~, mouthing the words with his motions.

She merely nodded. Not knowing what else to do, he headed back towards the cafeteria to seek sustenance.

Evan and Pietro

He was fourteen, and life was slow.

It wasn't that he was bored, it was just that time seemed to be crawling lately.

He'd first noticed it when his Home Ec teacher had given him a strange look when he came into class on Tuesday.

"You're early," she'd commented. "Isn't your class before this on the other side of the building?"

"Yeah," he'd said. "Why?"

"Because the dismissal bell only rang 45 seconds ago."

He looked up at the clock. Indeed, there was still a full minute and a half of passing time left. "I swear I haven't been cutting," he stammered. "I mean, I know I put my stuff away before class was over, but I didn't leave early, you can ask my teacher."

"Take your seat," the teacher said, as other students began to filter into the room.

He'd always been fast, he knew that. He played basketball, and no one else on the boy's JV team could match his hustle. The only reason he didn't do track was because the coach had yet to convince him that running was a sport.

But this was beyond simple speed. As long as he watched the clock, it seemed to tick away at the usual pace. But if he walked away and then looked again, it was always earlier than he thought it should be. Something wasn't right, and he didn't like it.

*

He was fourteen, and life was hard.

He wasn't disadvantaged, or handicapped, or any of those other words people used to indicate that you weren't as equal as everyone else. It was just that everyone wanted something from him.

His parents expected him to get good grades. His friends invited him to skate sessions at all hours of the day and night. And his teachers...well, they obviously got some kind of sadistic pleasure from taking up his time with stuff he didn't care about.

He also played basketball, JV squad. He was pretty good. But there was this other guy on the team who was unfairly good. He was tall, and fast, and coordinated. If only he'd pass to his teammates a little more often, he might really deserve the nickname Coach had given him.

The only name he went by was Evan Daniels. He didn't have any cool nicknames. He didn't have any super-powers either. Yeah, so maybe he read too many comic books. Still, there was nothing he wanted more than to fly around saving the world.

Maybe he could settle for beating Miracle Boy at something.

*

He called himself Pietro Maximoff, and he lived in a small apartment with his mom, who worked the day-shift at a local diner. He had recently given up taking the elevator, since he found it was faster to walk the six flights of stairs.

Basketball practice had been long, since #21 kept fooling around. Evan Daniels. Yeah, he knew him. Every September, unfailingly, they turned up in all the same classes together. Since kindergarten, they had been inseparable. That didn't mean they had to like each other.

He had homework. Maybe he could learn to be fast at that too.

*

There was homework, and dinner, and more homework. No matter what he did, it just kept showing up. Some days Evan was sure the assignments were spontaneously generating in his notepad. And his parents insisted he finish every one. How unreasonable was that?

Practice had been fun, anyway. He'd shown Pietro some of his best trick shots, and the duel had ended in a victory for himself.

And tomorrow was Saturday. If any new homework turned up, then he *knew* something was wrong. That meant he was free to hang out at the park. Yeah, score one for Evan.

That sounded so lame. He really needed something else to call himself.

*

"I'm going out, Mom!" Evan shouted as he went through the front door.

"Not until you put away your clean laundry!" she shouted back from somewhere inside.

"Argh..." Always *something*. He left his duffel bag on the porch and went back upstairs.

At that particular moment, Pietro was in transit from his building to the convenience store, since his mom had suddenly discovered an appalling lack of bread in the pantry. The most direct route happened to pass right in front of the Daniels residence.

There was a green duffel bag on the porch. Evan's name was printed on a tag on the handle.

Pietro, sore from coming out on the wrong end of yesterday's competition, contemplated the possibilities of stealing the items. Just for a while. Then he'd give them back.

The front door was still ajar, and someone was walking towards it.

Pietro made an impulse decision, grabbed for the straps, and ran. 'Faster!' he shouted at himself. 'They're coming!' He poured on the speed. His lungs were failing, his heart was pounding, and his legs were going to quit any second. Had to run, had to escape, not a thief. Run...

And like the point where a fast walk becomes a jog, something changed. A boundary was reached, broken, and he was free. He sped down the sidewalk in a blur of color and a streak of light.

Evan stood on his front steps, thoroughly bewildered. Something really *was* wrong, somewhere.

*

Aunt Ororo had told him he might really have super-powers some day. She'd claimed she could control the weather, but he hadn't actually seen her do it. Auntie O *was* a little weird sometimes. She lived in an institution. Maybe she was some kind of high-functioning loonie.

But she was nice to him. She visited a lot, and sometimes brought presents, and cheered him on in whatever he was doing. She didn't want anything from him either. That was good.

It was Sunday, and his skate gear was still missing. Some of his non-boarding friends had asked why he didn't go sit at the park, and he had tried (and failed) to explain what a camper was, and why he was not going to be one.

But it was a nice day, and his mom was tired of him moping around the house, so he'd gone for a walk. One of the old stores on First Street was being renovated, and he stopped to watch for a while. Two men were up on the scaffolding, trying to pin down a tarp before the wind got the better of them. They were being slow and clumsy about it.

A sudden gust took the plastic and carried it through the air like some monstrous supermarket bag, before dropping it into the dead space between the buildings. Someone was walking below.

Pietro?

The tarp was *really* big. If it fell on him, he'd probably suffocate.

Evan raised his arms toward the falling sheet, palms out. 'Okay,' he thought. 'If there are any super-powers in there, now would be a good time to show up.'

He waited for a jet of fire or some kind of force beam. His dad always told him that he could do anything he believed he could. He was probably referring to good grades, but hey, you never know.

'Any time now!' he thought desperately.

There was a truly odd feeling on the undersides of his wrists. The tarp swept against the store's brick face, and stayed there.

Evan hadn't really expected anything to happen. Afraid of himself, he ran.

*

Pietro had spent the morning in a quiet corner of the public park, estimating routes of varying lengths and clocking himself with a stopwatch. He was, as he'd suspected, faster than any normal teenager should be.

Well, he'd known it was a possibility. A likelihood, even. He was now a full-fledged member of the few, the elite, the mutants. Like his father and his sister.

"Never tell anyone," his father had often warned him. "Not until the right time. Humans won't understand."

Okay. He could keep a secret. He'd kept his sister's secret for five years. Her powers had come early, and they were wildly out of control. They'd had no choice but to send her away. As far as everyone outside their immediate family was concerned, she no longer existed.

In the midday sunshine, he was on his way home. He'd taken the direct route and gone by First Street. He kept his head down, looking only at the sidewalk, thinking his own thoughts.

Above his head, there was a rustle and a dull thunk. He looked up, and saw a big plastic sheet pinned to the building with two long white spikes. There were ten feet up, so all he could do was stare and wonder what they were.

*

Evan locked his bedroom door and sat heavily on the bed. Maybe nothing had really happened. Maybe it was a fluke wind, and an itch. Yeah, that was it.

T-shirts and unmentionables were flung carelessly across his covers. He began to fold them, just to keep his hands busy. They disappeared into drawers while his mind ran in circles.

'You're the one who *wanted* super-powers', he reminded himself. 'Then when you get one, you act like a baby. Just like the time you found out why you shouldn't pet the neighbors' dog.' He winced at the memory.

'So what do I do? Can't tell my parents, they'll completely lose it. Auntie O said I shouldn't tell my friends. I guess I should call her. And say what? My arms tickled?'

Well, if he really had super-powers, he should be able to use them again. He stood in front of his dartboard and raised his arms.

'Go,' he thought, 'go, go, go.'

He blinked, and two foot-long spikes were buried in the rubber. He knocked over a lamp as he scrambled for the phone.

*

"Hey, Mom!" Pietro shouted as he let himself into the apartment.

"Yeah?"

"I'm a mutant, Mom."

"Okay, that's good."

Good old Mom. When she registered what he'd said, she'd still love him just the same. Family story had it that when his dad had dropped the bomb, she'd merely asked what 'mutant' meant and continued dating him as if nothing had happened.

Not that the man really deserved the title of 'dad'. He'd sent money regularly, but was hardly ever home. Pietro hadn't seen him at all since the incident with Wanda.

That was just fine, as far as he was concerned. There was a monthly check, enough to pay the rent and put food on the table. Pietro did what he wanted, and his mom mostly stayed in the studio with her weird, abstract art.

Yup. Fine by him.

*

It was a male voice that answered. "Xavier Institute for the Gifted," it said.

"Is Ororo there?" Evan rushed out.

"One moment."

He fidgeted like crazy while listening to nothing.

"Hello?"

"Auntie O, you've gotta help me, I've got these super-powers and I don't know what to do and you said don't tell anybody and...and..."

"Evan, take a breath," his aunt soothed. "Tell me what happened."

He pointed to the dartboard. "These things, they come out of my arms, and I don't know what they are."

"What do they look like?"

"Um..." he crossed the room and loosed one of the things from the wall. "It's long, and white, and hard, and...very pointy."

"Where do they come from?"

"Under my arms. No, that's not what I meant! It's, um...right in that place where you get all wrinkly when you bend your hands down."

"Are there any now?"

"No."

"Evan?" said a third voice. "What's going on in there? Are you all right?"

"It's my mom," Evan whispered down the line. "What do I say, what do I say?"

"Tell her you're using the telephone," Ororo said reasonably.

"I'm on the phone!" he yelled through the door.

"Okay, I'm going out for a while."

"Kay, bye," he waited for the sound of retreating footsteps. "Okay, she's gone."

"I'm going to come over," Ororo said. "Try to stay calm. Take a nap if you can."

"Hurry," he implored, before there was a click on the other end.

(Untitled)

The old man died alone. Save for a few domestics, the rambling old house had been completely empty when he passed quietly into the other realm. There were no friends to grieve for him, no family to contact, not even any pets to make arrangements for.

"Time of death, 2:49 AM," the coroner reported as he rose from his position at the bedside. "Cause of death, advanced cancer of the liver."

"Got it!" an eager young officer announced, waving a white envelope. One of his superiors relieved him of it and slit it open.

"I, hum-hum, sound body and mind," he read, "'do hereby leave my entire estate to my only child. Unfortunately, I do not know who he, or she, is. The only information I have is that the mother was a very mysterious person whom I had only a brief relation with, and that the birth was most likely in the spring of 1986.'"

"What kind of a will is that?" the younger man scratched his head.

"Don't know," the lieutenant lowered the stationary. "But we're going to need one heck of a search party."

*

"I did it!" Jean said proudly as she waltzed into the den. "*I* did it!"

"I've done it, I've done it, look what I've done," Mr. McCoy quoted absently, without looking up from his frighteningly thick book.

Rogue looked at the scrap of paper Jean was waving enthusiastically. "Whoopee," she said boredly. "You've bought a lottery ticket."

"Ah, but not just any lottery ticket," Jean said in the manner of a carnival barker. "The *winning* lottery ticket!"

"What are the odds of that?" Evan laughed. "Unless you've learned to predict the future?"

"Okay," Jean sighed. "It's probably a loser. But you have to admit, it sounded good!"

"Jean," Scott scolded, "whatever possessed you to waste your money on lottery tickets, of all things?"

"I'm 18," she shrugged. "It's my legal right to buy lottery tickets."

"You like, turned 18 four months ago," Kitty pointed out.

"It's the first big pot," Jean reasoned. "Why bother playing for only 10 million dollars?"

"Doesn't matter," Rogue said cynically. "Either way, all you get after taxes is a dollar ninety-eight."

"'S enough for two burger bombs," Kurt commented.

"It's not like you need the money," Evan agreed. "Why waste your dollar?"

"I'm exercising my rights as an American citizen!" Jean argued.

"What, so you're going to drink a beer in three years, just because you can?" Scott countered.

"Yeah, I think I will! A little. Responsibly."

"Okay," said Kitty. "So what would you do if you like, actually won the 25 million?"

"Put it towards my college fund," Jean said thoughtfully. "And then-"

"Man, I would get a totally souped-up board!" Evan interrupted. "And every video game ever made! And a lifetime supply of moo juice!"

"I would give half a million or so to all of my friends," Kurt said quietly.

That shut everyone up.

*

Detective Graham was used to manila envelopes meeting his desk with a thump. This one was so light, it nearly went up when the lieutenant dropped it.

He flipped open the cover, scanned the single page contained therein, and looked expectantly up at his boss. "What do you want me to do with this?" he demanded.

"Find the kid," Lieutenant Polk replied simply.

"On this?" Graham waved the page in his superior's face. "Are you kidding me? I need more information."

"I thought getting information was your job," Polk raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, but a starting point is always useful," the detective looked over the page again. "I don't know whether I'm tracking a male or a female. Even assuming the date is in the right ballpark, we'd have to find everyone between the ages of 14 and 16, just to be safe. Our search area is the entire civilized world. And it's a common surname. Assuming the kid is even using it. The complete lack of information on the mother doesn't help either."

"What about DNA testing?" Polk suggested.

"That's a given, since the kid obviously didn't know the father. But it's customary to find someone to test first. It's just a little impractical to get blood samples from all six billion people on this earth."

"Better get on it then," the lieutenant smiled in that evil way that he did when he knew he'd just dumped a truckload of work on someone. "Whoever it is will be wanting their money."

"Can't do it," Graham replaced the page and slid the folder across the desk. "This is beyond me."

"Kid's got legal rights to their inheritance."

"Then have the media put the word out. They can do things I can't. I wash my hands of the whole business."

*

"In other news," a smartly-dressed anchor read from her cue cards, "the German Count Erik von Wagner died last week, leaving his entire fortune to a child he never met."

Scott might have felt an appropriate degree of sadness at the world's loss, had he not been so busy sawing wood.

"Authorities continue to scour the globe for the lost kin, sus-"

Rogue entered the room, found the remote, and changed to her favorite evening drama.

*

"-pected to be about 15 years of age. If you think you have any information, call us at 555-1234."

Looking at the run-down apartment, you might say that Risty Wilde lived on the wrong side of Bayville's train tracks. Or, if you kept one ear to the local underground and had especially good hearing, you might say that there was no such person as Risty Wilde. On either count, you'd be right.

"And that concludes our broadcast for tonight," the news-anchor said. "Join us again tomorrow, when we round up world events and find out what you should never eat for breakfast."

The network's four-note theme song played, and a familiar recorded voice boomed, "It's ten PM. Do you know where your children are?"

"Yes," Mystique answered quietly. "I do."

A flash of memory...

*

She ran awkwardly, due to the bundle in her arms. Had she been alone, she would have transformed into something faster, or smaller, or winged. Of course, if she had been alone, she wouldn't have been fleeing from an angry mob.

It was the kid they wanted, her first-born son. He had a face only a mother could love, and a loving mother, and an entire village after his blood. Well, they weren't going to get it. Not if she had anything to say about it.

The ground swayed beneath her feet, and she made the mistake of looking down. The old bridge was suspended, barely, over a river swollen with spring rain and melted snow from the mountains. The mob was threatening to set fire to the bridge. Then some decided to shake it.

The ropes were long, and loose. The bridge swung violently. The bundle flew from her arms and plummeted towards the water.

Unable to do anything more for her child, she switched into save-yourself mode and made for the forest on the other side of the ravine. Ducking behind a tree, she shifted into a local variety of squirrel and waited for her pursuers to pass. It took them quite some time to do so, since they saw no logical errors in their belief that she could be under any rock. Failing to find their quarry in any of the impossibly small crevices in the area, the villagers caused some minor destruction before drifting back to their homes.

Eventually she felt safe enough to revert to her normal shape, and returned immediately to the old bridge. The waterfall behind her roared out its never-ending thunder as she peered into the foaming rapids below.

There was no sign of her son.

Mystique shifted into a wolf and began to pick her way carefully down the rocks to the riverbank.

No crying child, no floating blanket.

She followed the water's path across the land, looking for any clues to her son's location or well-being. Unfortunately, as any tracker knew, water was very good at covering signals of all kinds. Smells and sounds were completely drowned in the gentle ripples.

There! The familiar scent of her own led into a small village, ending at a house with cheerful lights glowing from within.

Yes. Her son was here, with other people. Obviously he had been found. If the people had been afraid of or repulsed by him, he would not be alive in their home.

Mystique made a choice in her son's best interest, and hoped he would understand.

She shifted back to her natural form, drew paper and pen from her pocket, and scribbled a note in her best German.

"Name von Junge sein Kurt Wagner. Lieben er ahnlich dein und er sein dein." (Name of boy to be Kurt Wagner. To love he similar to your and he to be your.)

She laid the note on the doorstep, set a rock on top of it, and stepped back a pace.

Shifting into a raven, she flew into the night, not daring to look back for fear that she might do something irrational.

She had crossed the border into France before realizing that she hadn't written down his birthdate.

How to Become an Evil Supervillain Without Really Trying

"Lance," Pietro said as he limped into the boardinghouse, "that may have been your single worst plan ever."

"We didn't even accomplish anything," Todd grumbled. "I'm really starting to hate telepaths."

"I did get that stupid statue down," Fred said. "Honestly. What kind of mascot is a roasting bird?"

"Won't hear no argument from me there," Todd agreed as he collapsed onto the couch.

"Kitty came to rescue me..."

"What?" Pietro turned to see Lance's face dominated by a dopey grin. "Oh, for the love of-"

"Kitty!" Lance beamed.

"Forget this." Pietro side-stepped Lance's misguided attempts at a hug and made for the stairs.

"Hey, Fred," Todd said. "Where are the sleeping pills?"

"You mean the two-by-four?"

"That's what I said."

*

Sequestering himself in his room, Pietro pulled a book from under the mattress.

_How to Become an Evil Supervillain Without Really Trying,_ blared the cover.

Who knew such things were available in the Bayville Free Public Library, Pietro reflected as he sat and opened the book to a dog-eared page. To take home, even!

"Chapter 6: The Fence

"In Chapter 3, we discussed how to recruit an army of minions. Surely you are well aware that minions are divided between your ranks and those of your enemy.

"Rule 6.1: Never fraternize with the enemy, or allow any of your minions to do so. Definitely do not become romantically involved."

Pietro reached for the pen on his nightstand, clicked the button, and scribbled, "Break up Lance and Kitty" on his notepad.

"As you know, the best way to increase the numbers of your followers is to recruit unallied minions. Unfortunately, there is generally not an infinite supply of these in the general vicinity of your base. As it is undesirable to abandon your base for long periods of time in order to go on recruiting missions, you will have to be more creative.

"Your Assignment: Target an enemy minion, and recruit him or her to your side."

"I can do that," Pietro said aloud. Chapter 1 had taught him how to think and feel like an evil supervillain, and he practiced some of the techniques now. "I am bad. I am evil. I am feared, reviled, and hated. Mwahahahahaha!"

"Hey, Fred!" Todd's voice came from downstairs. "Are two-by-fours good for more than one use?"

"You mean, can you use them more than once?"

"That's what I said."

"Why yes, Todd, I think they are."

"Noises off!" Pietro shouted. "I'm going to bed!"

(Sequel to That's Me in the Searchlight)

Jack slipped into his chair in English class, looking up to read the daily writing assignment on the board.

"Imagine you are an inanimate object," the teacher had written in her neat cursive, "and write a paragraph from that object's point of view."

Jack picked up a pencil and twirled it thoughtfully before setting it down again. He was just no good at creative writing. His gaze wandered around the room before coming back to his desk.

"I am a pen," was written on his paper. The yellow pencil was forming words of its own accord. Jack snatched up the writing implement, his heart racing.

"I have ink instead of scratchy graphite," the pencil had written. "I do not need to be sharpe-"

Jack crumpled up the page and stuffed it into his backpack.

*

Jack made his way through the crowd to his locker and leaned heavily against the door. What a day. His burger had thrown itself repeatedly at his face during lunchtime. His calculator had solved complicated equations in its spare time. And now, his locker was inputting its own combination.

His power had never been so out of control. When he was little, he had spent hours arranging his G.I. Joes and plastic army figures in complex patterns, and they had always waited until he told them to start the battle. And when it had become his daily job to set the dinner table, he'd figured out pretty quickly how to make everybody's silverware stay put, since they preferred to serve themselves by the traditional method.

He needed help. Like anyone could do anything for him. "Hi, my name is Jack Lander, and I can't get my inanimate objects to stay that way."

'No,' Jack thought as his locker opened and books began flying in and out. 'There is one place I can go.'

Snatching his school supplies from mid-air, he left school grounds and headed towards the Institute, his mind filling with memories.

As I walk along I wonder what went wrong

It was his cousins that couldn't handle the power. He had been the strong one, training himself to keep it under control.

With our love, a love that was so strong

The stress must have been getting to him. He missed his old home in the country. The big happy family in the old house, the cozy small-town atmosphere, all the things he had grown up with.

And as I still walk on I think of the things we've done

Horseplay in the house. Climbing trees in the yard. Long walks by moonlight...and on moonless nights...they would illuminate the path themselves.

Together while our hearts were young

His cousins, so nearly his sisters...what were they doing now?

*

I'm a-walking in the rain

Adam Lander pulled up the collar of his long coat before getting out of the car. He dodged puddles on the way into the police station. Once inside, he shook out his rain-soaked hat and approached the counter.

Tears are falling and I feel a pain

Blaire Lander looked out the window of the old house, her legs slowly falling asleep. "*Mom*," her one remaining daughter complained. "Don't you think I'm a little old to be sitting on your lap?"

Wishing you were here by me

"Name?" the police officer asked, pulling out a missing-person report card.

"Diane Lander," Adam said.

"Last seen?"

"Three days ago."

To end this misery

The house, formerly so full of life, seemed empty. Just her and her younger daughter. She hoped her husband would return soon. She hoped she would see Diane again.

And I wonder...why...she ran away

"Any idea where she might have headed?" the officer read off the next question on the card.

"East, maybe," Adam said after thinking for a moment. "We used to live there, and we have family in New York."

And I wonder where she will stay

As far as Blaire could tell, Diane had taken nothing from the house. No changes of clothes, no money, no personal belongings.

My little runaway...

Diane, in fact, was currently enjoying a warm, dry room at the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters.

*

There was a loud knocking at the door. "Who left the gates open again?" Logan growled as he crossed the front hall.

Evan was suddenly very interested in his History textbook. Kurt noticed, stifled a laugh, and made himself scarce.

Logan threw open the door to find a tall boy with a backpack slung over one shoulder standing on the porch. "Whaddya want?" he said by way of greeting.

"Is Kurt here?" the boy asked, peering into the mansion.

"Kurt!" Logan shouted, turning around. The summons carried a distinct undertone which said, "And get here the normal way, elf."

Kurt's sensitive ears picked up this nuance, and he appeared at the top of the stairs with his hologram on. "Jack!" he said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to, um, talk to you," the freshman shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "In private."

"Um, okay," Kurt seriously hoped Jack hadn't changed his mind about the bathroom incident. "You wanna come up to my room?"

Apparently Jack did, because he silently climbed the stairs.

Kurt closed the bedroom door behind them and sat apprehensively on his bed. Jack leaned against the wall. For a moment they were silent.

"I need to know where we stand," Jack said finally. "You're the Blue Demon, right?"

"There are other names I prefer," Kurt said stiffly, "but yeah, that's me."

"But most of the time you're normal," Jack was obviously working through a tangle of thoughts. "Are you a shape-shifter?"

"No, it's just a hologram," Kurt explained. "Since you've already seen, I might as well turn it off and save the batteries." He unbuckled his watch and snapped it into the recharger on his bedside table.

When he turned around again, Jack was still completely unfazed at his schoolmate's unusual appearance. "Okay, so you're not a shape-shifter, and you're not a demon," he said slowly. "You're just a mutant."

"Just a mutant?" Kurt repeated. "I've never been called that before."

Jack shrugged. "It's no big deal. I mean, I've met some mutants before."

"Really?" Kurt was still unsure where this conversation was going.

"Well, I know some mutants, that is, I might be a mutant, I mean, I think I'm...aw, who am I kidding?" A huge sigh escaped him. "I'm a mutant! I always have been and I always will be, whether I like it or not. There. I said it. You happy now?" This was directed more to the world in general than to his lone listener.

"Err..." Kurt blinked. "They say admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery."

"Yeah..." Jack stared at his feet. "So this is the mutant house, right?"

"How'd you know?"

"Well, you and your friends all live here," Jack said thoughtfully, "and I've known, well, I thought I knew, that you were mutants, for a while, 'cause, you know, you feel different."

"We what?" Kurt was relieved that this didn't seem to be about the bathroom incident, but he was getting confused.

"Well, you know, everyone has life energy," Jack tried to explain. "But me, and you guys, we have an extra kind of energy that normal people don't. A kinda mutant energy, I guess."

How Kurt despised that word, 'normal'. He nodded anyway. "So what's your power, exactly?" he asked.

"When I touch something alive, it's a healing power," Jack replied. "But when I touch something else..." He let go of his backpack, and it drifted into a corner before settling down on the carpet. "That happens," he finished.

"Everything you touch?" Kurt said in amazement.

"Everything," Jack nodded sadly.

"How do you get through a school day?"

"I had it under control until a few days ago," Jack sighed. "All of a sudden it's just leaking out everywhere."

"Your powers must be getting stronger," Kurt told him, "but the teachers here can help you get them back under control."

Jack finally looked up and smiled. "Thanks," he said. "I could use it." He scooped up his backpack and let himself out.

Kurt had just reached the doorway when he heard two shouts from the hall. He peeked out to see Jack staring at the newest resident of the Institute.

"Diane?" Jack said in disbelief.

"Jack?" the girl said with equal surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"What are *you* doing here? Don't tell me Uncle Adam sold the house!"

"No! I'm, um, on vacation!"

"Before the end of the school year?" Jack said skeptically.

"Oh, you!" Diane glared at him.

"I'll repeat the question...what are you doing here?" Jack demanded.

Diane crossed her arms. "I couldn't stand Nowheresville any more," she huffed. "I took a hike. I didn't know *you* were here."

"And what, you're planning to stay here?"

"So what if I am? It's none of your business!"

"Whaddya mean it's none of my business?"

"I *mean*," Diane said pointedly, "that I can get along without you."

This silenced Jack for a moment. "You've changed," he said finally, before brushing past her and continuing on his way out. Diane
stared at the empty space in front of her until something filled it.

"Did I miss something?" Kurt asked.

"Ugh...he's my cousin," Diane put a hand to her forehead in exasperation. "Of all the places he could have been, he had to turn up here." She walked away, leaving Kurt hardly any more enlightened than he had been a moment ago.

*

Evan always watched the nightly news. He didn't know why. Probably his inner New Yorker had a deep psychological need to know what was happening in the world. It was a nice routine, at any rate.

"In other news," the anchor was saying, "a fifteen-year-old girl is reported missing from her home in Nebraska. Sources say she may have headed east towards Pennsylvania or New York."

Evan sat up and paid attention. There was a picture in the corner of the screen, probably a recent school photo. "Hey..." he said aloud, "isn't that...Yo guys!" he shouted. "Look who's on TV!"

*bamf*

Kurt appeared on, and promptly fell off, the back of the couch. He scrambled up and looked at the screen again. "Diane?" he finally managed to say. "What is she doing on the news?"

Diane showed up in the doorway. "'Bout time," she muttered.

"So you did run away," Kurt said, remembering a previous conversation.

"So what if I did?" Diane retorted, throwing herself into a chair.

"You should call your folks," Scott said as he followed her into the room.

"I don't have to tell them everything I do," Diane had the can't-make-me advantage, and she knew it.

"You will call your parents." Everyone jumped and turned around to see the Professor. "Or I will send you home," he said.

It was no bluff. Diane's edge crumpled into nothingness.

There was a scream from upstairs.

*

Kitty raced around the corner and stopped dead in her tracks. Rogue was standing outside their room looking confused and panicky. Jack was on the floor in front of her, holding his head and screaming.

"Oh-my-gosh, Rogue!" Kitty shouted at her roommate. "Like, what did you *do* to him?!"

"I didn't do nothin'!" Rogue took a step backwards. "I never touched him! I just came out here an' he started hollerin'!"

"Out," Kitty ordered. Rogue vanished back into the bedroom. Kitty fell onto her knees next to Jack, trying to reassure him.

The screaming was replaced by fast, heavy breathing. "Who...is that?" Jack gasped.

"It's Rogue," Kitty frowned. "She's like, not that scary."

"That girl...she's a black hole for energy."

"Did she touch you?" Kitty worried. "Stealing life force through physical contact is her power."

"No," Jack shook his head. "Just...everything around her...dead..." He suddenly got up. "I'll be okay."

Kitty watched him go, then dropped through the floor into the TV room.

*

Xavier led Diane and Jack into his study and indicated the phone. Grumbling, Diane picked up the receiver and dialed her home number. It barely rang once before being picked up.

"Hello?" said a voice with a tone of someone who had been waiting for an important call.

"Hi, Mom," Diane said, false-cheerfully.

"Diane!" Blaire held onto her chair-arm for support. "Where are you? Are you okay?"

"One, I'm in New York. Bayville," Diane answered patiently. "B, I'm fine."

"Where are you staying? When are you coming home?"

"I'm at a sorta mutant boardin' school, and I'm not."

"What?"

"Not coming home, I mean," Diane sighed. She could practically hear her mother thinking.

"Does this school...would they take Cassie?" Blaire questioned.

"Mom, no!" Diane whined. "Don't send her here!"

"I mean it!" Blaire said in that I'm-the-mom tone of voice. "Find out!"

"Do you take kids?" Diane whispered to the Professor, cupping her hand over the receiver.

"What age?"

"Twelve."

"Yes."

"Yeah, she can come," Diane said into the phone.

"Oh, that's great," Blaire smiled for the first time in many days. "I'll send her after she finishes the school year here."

"When does she get out?"

"End of next week."

"Oh, no," Diane groaned. "Mom, we have finals then!"

"I'm sure you'll do fine," her mom said. "All my love!" She hung up. Diane put the receiver back in the cradle and slumped into a chair.

"What was that about?" Xavier raised an eyebrow.

"She's sending my sister," Diane moaned.

"She is also a mutant?" the Professor said with some surprise.

"Seems to run in the family," Diane laughed mirthlessly.

Xavier turned his attention to Jack. "Kitty told me what happened upstairs," he said, "and Kurt filled me in on your history. It seems you are sensitive to Rogue's powers."

"I can handle it," Jack said, looking up from his lap. "She just...caught me off guard."

"I'm sure," the Professor nodded. "If you'll be staying with us, you can share a room with your cousin."

"No way!" Diane immediately protested.

"It's not like we haven't done it before," Jack rolled his eyes.

"When we were kids!"

"Diane, we were thirteen."

"Well, now we're fifteen," she argued.

"Care to take a walk and discuss this?" he offered.

"Fine."

*

"Cheater."

"It's not cheating, you didn't ask."

"You said 'take a walk', not 'walk somewhere'."

"What's the difference?"

Diane glared at her cousin. "You can't make me go in."

"Suit yourself," Jack shrugged, unlocking the front door of his house.

"Is that you, Jack?" called his mother from the kitchen. "Where have you been all afternoon?"

"Scouting out some new living arrangements," he shouted back.

Jessie Lander appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "Moving out?" she asked with some surprise.

"Just across town," Jack replied as he started up the stairs to his room. His mother followed him.

"Taking an apartment with some friends?" she guessed.

"Sorta," Jack dragged a suitcase from underneath his bed and flipped it open. "I'm going to that Xavier Institute for a while."

"What for?"

"I just...need some help," Jack threw a pile of clothes into his luggage and slammed it closed. He was saved from further explanations by the phone ringing suddenly, as phones are wont to do. His mother raced downstairs to answer it. Jack started after her, then stopped mid-stride. "Oops, almost forgot!" he ducked into his closet to retrieve an oddly-shaped black case. Satisfied, he left the room.

Jessie sighed as she hung up the phone. "The cleaning girl just canceled for next Monday," she explained. "Probably wants to go to the carnival."

Jack rolled his eyes. Young people just had no work ethic these days. "Well, I'm off," he said.

"Oh, wait a minute," his mom called after him. "What were you saying about getting help?"

"For my powers," Jack shifted uncomfortably. He hated admitting he needed help. "The Institute, they teach mutants. I'll be okay there."

"You'll...visit?"

"Mom, it's a ten-minute walk from here to there. You can come any time."

"I'll miss you," Jessie threw her arms around her son before waving him out the door.

*

Sweet music echoed through the mansion. Jean looked up from her history notes, enraptured by the mysterious melody. She pushed back her chair and stood up, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from.

Peeking out into the hallway, Jean followed her ears to Jack's door and quietly let herself in. The music stopped abruptly.

"Sorry," Jack, though facing the other way, had somehow sensed her presence. "I'll keep it down."

"No, it's nice," Jean smiled. "What is it?"

"French horn," Jack turned in his seat, showing her the shining brass instrument.

"You're in the band?"

He nodded.

"Well, I'll let you practice," Jean stood up and left. Jack studied his sheet music for a moment and continued from where he'd left off.

*

Kurt shivered, despite the fact that he was under two blankets. 'Just music,' he told himself. 'Just music.'

But it was so much more.

No cage could hold him. He was too clever, too agile, too determined to get out. So periodically he would escape, running for his life. And always the men came after him. They sounded the hunting-horn, the hounds bayed, and Kurt ran faster. He made full use of every trick and advantage he knew, but sooner or later he found himself surrounded by growling dogs, and the men hauled him back to the circus. Every time he got a little further, lasted a little longer, but always he was caught. Always, except once.

*

Jean sat in the Gate 9 waiting area, scanning the crowd. "She looks like a little me," Diane had told her.

'That must be her, then,' Jean thought, seeing a girl with a waist-length braid coming out of the jetway. She waved to catch the girl's eye.

The little person with the flowery jacket and bright pink backpack came over to her. "You Cassie?" Logan asked.

She nodded.

"Got bags?"

Nod-nod.

"Let's go get 'em."

Logan had the sort of presence that cleared crowds, so he led the way to the baggage claim. Cassie trailed behind him, with Jean bringing up the rear. After retrieving one very ordinary-looking black suitcase, they made for the van.

It was quieter here, so Jean tried to start a conversation. "Hi," she ventured. "I'm Jean."

"Hi," Cassie said, looking at her with enormous brown eyes.

"You miss your sister?"

"I guess."

"Ever been away from home before?"

Cassie lit up. "Yeah!" she said excitedly. "I go to this great camp every summer, and we take trips and do all kinds of neat stuff, and I have so many friends there!"

"Sounds like fun!" Jean smiled. "I bet you'll have lots of friends at the Institute too. It's full of nice people."

"Tell me all about them!" Cassie demanded.

"Well, there's Kitty," Jean began. "She's really smart, and she'd be glad to help you with homework or anything. And Rogue, if you remember not to touch her you'll be all right. Scott is our self-appointed leader, let him think that and he'll play big brother to you. Evan is cool, but you probably don't have much in common with him. Watch out for Kurt, he's always playing tricks. And then there are the younger kids..."

'So much for a quiet ride home,' Logan thought.

*

"I'd like you all to meet my sister," Diane swept her arm around in an overdone gesture, "Cassandra."

"Cassandra Lander?" Evan raised an eyebrow.

"I know," Diane laughed. "Can you believe it? Anyway, we all call her Cassie."

There was a confusing chorus of "Hello, Cassie"s and "Welcome to the Institute"s.

"Anybody seen Kurt?" Diane suddenly noticed the missing member of the group.

"TV room," Kitty indicated the general direction.

Diane and Jack herded Cassie out of the room.

*

"Kurt!" Diane didn't feel like giving the whole introduction again. "My sister."

Kurt gave a vague wave without taking his eyes off the television.

Jack turned off the TV. "Say hello," he ordered.

Kurt turned around in his seat. "Hello," he said flatly.

"Introduce yourself," Jack pressed.

"Diane already did," Kurt grumbled. Jack gave him a death glare. "What is this, one of those stupid icebreaker games?"

"Do it!" Jack insisted.

"Fine! I'm Kurt Wagner, 15, from Germany. Happy now?" Kurt returned the death glare.

"And an interesting fact about yourself."

"I'm bilingual."

"More interesting."

"I used to work in a circus."

"Give me a break, Kurt!" Jack exploded. "Just get it over with already!"

Cassie was staring at them, completely bewildered. Kurt feigned ignorance. "She's going to find out sooner or later," Jack said evenly. "Do it and be done with it."

Kurt hauled himself off the couch, grumbling some things that really were not nice under his breath. He positioned himself in full view of everyone in the room and turned off his hologram.

There was a pause.

And then Cassie started laughing.

"Okay," she gasped finally. "That's a good one."

Kurt looked at her blankly.

"Really," she giggled. "Take it off."

Kurt shrugged and removed the holowatch, dropping it into his pocket.

"Come on!" Cassie laughed. "Stop it!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Kurt said, sounding very insulted.

"Oh," Cassie stopped laughing. "Jean didn't tell me you were one of those jerks who didn't know when to stop. Really. The joke's over."

Kurt blinked.

"I said that's enough!" Cassie shouted. "Take it off!" In one fast motion, she grabbed his tail, wrapped it once around her hand, and tugged downwards. Very hard. She expected the pants of his ridiculous costume to fall down. What actually happened could not have surprised her more.

Kurt was having spasms on the floor in front of her.

"What's the matter with you?" Jack yelled as he dropped to the floor. He pulled up Kurt's shirt and put his first two fingers against his friend's back, just above the base of his tail.

"It's...real?" Cassie whimpered.

"No, Kurt's a professional actor," Jack glared up at her. "Of course it's real!"

Cassie took a step backwards, then ran screaming from the room.

"Oookay..." Diane blinked. "Now that we all know each other, I'll just be on my way. Oh, and the Professor wanted to see you guys."

After she left the room, Kurt pried himself off the floor. "Ow," was the understatement he came up with.

"You okay?" Jack asked.

"I'll live," Kurt sighed, rubbing his lower back. "But I'm not giving that creepy little cousin of yours another chance to find me." He put his hand on Jack's shoulder and teleported both of them directly to the study.

"Ah, I was waiting for you." Xavier was completely undisturbed by their sudden arrival.

"What can I do for you?" Jack leaned on the back of a handy chair.

"It's just about the room assignments," the Professor said. "Since it makes sense to put your cousins together, I'd like the two of you to also share a room."

"Aw, no!" Kurt complained. "Why can't he bunk in with Evan?"

"Because I doubt he'd appreciate being accidentally impaled in the middle of the night. Now go help him move his things."

Kurt grumbled all the way upstairs. "I thought the mansion would never run out of bedrooms," he said, mostly to himself. "I mean, we're only using fifteen or so."

"I'll just go get my stuff," Jack let himself into his former room and instantly felt like he'd walked into a photographic negative. Dizzily he crossed the bright orange carpet and tapped Diane on the shoulder. She looked up from the black pages of her textbook and blinked at him. "Stressed over finals?" he asked.

She rubbed her forehead, and the room's colors returned to normal. "I'm guessing you wouldn't believe me if I said no," she said tiredly.

"Not really," Jack answered, gathering up his belongings. "Just take it easy. And don't cram, it doesn't help anything."

*

"PASS! THE! RICE!" Bobby screamed over the general mayhem. A white paper container began making its way towards his end of the table. By the time it reached him, it was completely empty, thanks to everyone along the way imposing tariffs on all passing food.

"So how was everyone's day?" the Professor asked.

"I saw Taryn this morning-" Scott started.

"-and she threatened me with detention again-" Kurt loudly tried to tell about his morning.

"-then I gave my presentation in History class-"

"-and it was like, totally embarassing because-"

"-everyone really liked my new outfit but-"

"-at lunch I got the sloppy Joe-"

"-all over me."

Go Ask Kitty

"Is today the big day?" Kitty asked cheerfully as she came into the kitchen.

"No," Kurt sighed, poking his spoon resolutely into his oatmeal.

"Are you sure?" Kitty tipped her head back as her arms reached through the refrigerator door for orange juice.

"I'm very sure."

"Are you positive?" she wheedled, picking a glass from the cabinet and flipping it over.

"Kitty," Kurt said tightly. "Today is not the big day. Tomorrow is not the big day. This is not the big week or the big month. It may not even be the big year. Please stop bothering me."

"Make me," Kitty stuck out her tongue childishly.

"I will. Goodbye, Kitty."

*bamf*

"Touchy," Evan mumbled.

Jean pushed a box of her younger teammate's favorite cereal towards her. "Take a hint, Kitty. Kurt will quit using the projector when he's ready."

"When will that be?" Kitty morosely poured out the flakes.

"About sixty years, at this rate." Evan drained his milk and wiped his face on a handy shirtsleeve. "Better hurry up if you want a ride to school."

"I'd rather not go at all," Kitty groaned.

Jean smirked. "Does the word 'empathy' mean anything to you?"

"I know what 'empathy' means," Kitty snapped. "I also know words like 'prejudice' and 'equal rights', and I'd like to see a little less of the first and some more of the second."

"Wouldn't we all," Jean said wistfully. She raised her half-empty glass. "Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with us."

"Cheers," Evan made a vague gesture with his own milk-stained glass before dumping it into the sink. "But for now, let there be a tolerable day that doesn't start with a tardy notice."

"A*men*."

"Good," Kitty pushed away her barely-touched breakfast and stood up. "I'll go do my part by finding my shoes."

"Living room," Rogue advised as the two girls briefly shared the doorway. "Am I walking today?"

"Ya snooze, ya lose," Evan tossed off as he followed Kitty out.

"I thought I'd put some clothes on before breakfast!" she shouted after him.

"Pajamas are clothes too!"

"But you wouldn't wear them to school," Rogue mumbled, shoving a package of pop-tarts into her bag. "I'm outta here."

"Catch you later." Jean waved half-heartedly, adding an extra flick to guide her unfinished juice to the sink.

"I'm leaving right now!" Scott yelled as he strode past the doorway.

"Wait for me!" Kitty cried, laces flapping around her left foot.

Jean smiled and followed, scooping up her backpack from where it lay next to the side door. Evan, shirt halfway over his head, bumped into her as she straightened up.

"Sorry," came his muffled apology.

"Whenever you're publicly decent..." Jean said, mock-impatiently.

Evan yanked his shirt down and ran a hand over his hair. "Good?"

"Good enough," she said playfully.

Scott loudly started the engine.

"Go." Jean opened the door and gestured him through, then followed, claiming the passenger seat of the convertible.

"About time," Scott grumbled, reversing out of the garage.

"So tell me again why we're still doing this school thing," Evan said, settling his bag between his feet.

"Because education is mandatory until you're sixteen," Scott replied, impatiently revving the engine while the gate creaked open.

"What about you guys?" Kitty leaned on her hand.

"We're too stupid to drop out," Jean said placatingly.

"Obviously," Evan sniped.

"Guys," Jean sighed. "Just deal with it, okay?"

"I don't see Kurt dealing," Kitty said petulantly.

"Kitty," Jean began, "I say this to you as a friend, and I mean it in only the nicest way, but - shut up already. Kurt *is* dealing, and barely. Trust me - you don't want to be the straw that breaks him."

"Yeah," Evan put in. "It's enough already."

"Rogue," Kitty said, an instant before Scott said the same.

"Point to Kitty," said Evan. "As I was saying - I think he'll come around."

"When?" Kitty folded her arms. "In the year 2060?"

"Look," Evan sighed. "I don't want to argue this with you."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Kurt."

"Nargh!" Evan and Jean reached for their wallets and passed Kitty a dollar each.

Scott glanced at her in the rearview mirror. "Pay you later, okay?"

"Sure," Kitty said absently, stuffing her winnings into her bag.

Scott pulled the car smoothly into an empty space and shoved the gearshift into park. "Bell rings in three minutes."

Jean tossed off her standard message as she slammed her door. "Have a day, everyone."

"You too," Kitty replied automatically as she collected her things.

Evan eschewed the normal exit routes, hopping over the side and slinging his bag over his shoulder. "'Til lunch, you guys."

The young mutants scattered, though their progress was easily tracked. Their mere passage cut wide swaths through the swarms of students and changed the tone of the casual banter as surely as though some great radio dial had been turned.

"Freaks, the lot of them," said one, not bothering to lower her voice.

"Yeah," said another. "Powers like that should only be in cartoons and comic books."

"How long 'til they're sent away?" wondered a third.

"*I* think it's going straight to the Supreme Court," opined his neighbour.

Stoically ignoring the snide comments, Kitty took advantage of her private throughway to walk quickly into the main building. As most students stayed outside until the last possible minute in good weather, she had no trouble getting to her locker, and was able to use it in peace.

The halls slowly filled as she made her way towards her first class. Kitty was the third person into room 220, not counting the teacher, and set her books down on a desk in the back. Normally she liked to sit front and center in all her classes, but since her return to Bayville High, the other students could not seem to keep from poking her curiously.

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