Disclaimer - I do not own X-Men: Evolution.


Amara sat in her room. Remy, Rogue, and Logan had been back for an hour. She had tried everything to get St. John out of her head. Nothing worked. Everything only reminded her of him. She didn't know how it would be when he left. She took a tissue and wiped her face. She sniffled. It was already hard with the knowledge that he was leaving. She just didn't know when.

"Amara?" She cringed at the sound of his voice. She looked at the door, which was open as he peered in. "Hey." No answer. She just looked away, unable to say anything. "Are you mad at me?" Shaking her head, Amara tried not to let him see her face. "What's wrong?"

"You're leaving, aren't you?" Her voice was soft, hesitant.


Remy put a card on top of two flat ones. He was just about to put another one on when he sneezed. He growled as the house of cards toppled over. Little Gage was propped up in Rogue's arms as she sat behind Remy on the couch.

"Ya should stop soon." She said, sighing. He had been going at it since they arrived. "That's the second one today."

"I know, Rogue." He said in an irritated voice. "I need t' finish." She frowned then rolled her eyes. His determination can sometimes get really annoying.

"Ah'll be in our room." She left with Gage clinging to her. She opened the door and set him down on his bed. She needed to relax. She laid on her bed, on her stomach. She watched as Gage got out a book and walked over to her, a little clumsily. "Want meh ta read it?" He nodded and held it out to her. She smiled and took the book from him.


Logan waxed his motorcycle. He smirked, knowing his job was done when he could see his reflection in it. He sat down and took a swig of his beer. He really needed to loosen up. He had been too busy to enjoy being alone. A noise almost made him eject his Adamantium claws. Ororo walked through the door, her eyes searching around for something.

"Lookin' fer somethin', 'Ro?" She looked over at him, startled. She noticed the bottle in his hand.

"Logan, the professor wants to see you about another mission." She said, trying not to notice the smell of alcohol in the air.

"Sure." He walked out and she hugged herself. She was worried that he might drink too much one night. She noticed the rag propped on the seat of the motorcycle. He had been cleaning his bike?

"What else?" She wondered, rolling her eyes. The garage was colder than usual. It was as if a chill had settled over the mansion. She frowned, worry showing in her eyes. They were in for a few problems. More than the X- Men could ever handle alone. Sighing, she walked through the door, quickly closing it behind her.


Sighing, Rogue tucked Gage in. She kissed his hair, since she couldn't have skin-to-skin. She left the room and felt tears sting her eyes. Why did this have to happen? At a time like this. She threw her arms up and let out a sigh. She walked down into the kitchen. Jean was flushed and glaring at all of them.

"Jus' what is ya're problem?" Ray snorted.

"Bickering with Pyro again." He answered voluntarily. He looked away when Jean glared at him.

"You're not gonna have any hair left at this rate." Rogue stated sarcastically. "With all that hairspray ya use, it should be extra flammable." St. John happened to walk into the room.. almost as if on cue.

"There's no more.." He noticed everyone staring at him. "What?" Then he blinked. "Whatever it was, I didn't do it."

"No, Ah don't think ya did." Rogue smiled slightly. They could always change her moods. Sometimes they could be very annoying. Other times.. well.. John let out a big sigh of relief.

"Good.. for a second, I thought I was a goner." He focused his green eyes on Jean. "But on the other hand, I am."

"Ya should change ya're mind about that." Rogue said, trying to spare the deep details. "Ah don't think ya should leave 'cuz of little miss priss." She crossed her arms, glaring at Jean. "An' what was that ya said? That Ah need a attitude adjustment?"

"Shut up, Rogue. I don't need to listen to this. I'm leaving." She walked to the door then stopped. "I won't ever trust you, Pyro."

"Ditto, Grey." He said, rolling his eyes at the others. Jean stormed out of the room. "She should watch that temper of hers. It'll do her a lot of good to give herself one of those dreaded pep talks."

"She probably will." Rogue muttered sarcastically. "Ah think Ah heard 'er talkin' ta herself a few times when she thought she was by herself."


St. John Allerdyce was currently unavailable, due to baking anxiety. He had to get something right.. maybe not the ingredients but it might get some points if it wasn't burnt to a crisp.

"Let's see.. a cake.. cookies.. muffins.. no. I had a bad experience with muffins. Pie.. too messy. Cupcakes are not an option. I know! A CAKE!" He exclaimed gleefully. He searched for the right kind. "Carrot cake.. nope. I don't like carrots. Chocolate cake.. I don't wanna be racist. White cake.. same as chocolate. Marble.. probably come out looking like a zebra. Yellow.. no. CONFETTI!" He clapped his hands. Maybe some people in the mansion were glad they were sleeping at midnight. Others.. like those misfortunate enough to get the lower level rooms, poor them. He put in all of the ingredients and a few 'secret' ingredients of his own. Sugar (a couple of extra cups, because he likes sugar), flour, eggs (whole because he forgot to crack them), butter (by his own judgement because they had a TUB of butter and no STICKS), vegetable oil (which, of course, he accidentally poured in), a broken piece of a plastic spoon (he didn't feel like digging it out), cake mix, something he thought looked good enough to put in a cake (garlic, the lable was missing), and vanilla extract (he didn't know what it was exactly so he used it). Once he had all of that put into the bowl he searched around the mansion for confetti. He found some in a drawer, since somebody just had a birthday not too long ago.

"St. John?" The pyromaniac turned around to see Piotr staring at him oddly from the steps. "What are you doing? Its after midnight."

"Just go back to bed, Col. I'm just doin' my own thing." Colossus didn't look too convinced.

"The mansion and everything should be in one piece in the morning. And no setting toilet paper on fire and tossing it at neighboring homes, and-" St. John sighed. He shook his head.

"None of that will happen, mate. I've got everything under control!" Colossus looked even more distrusting.

"The last time you said that, you set the kitchen stove on fire." He looked amused for a brief second. "Funny, how you can control fire, yet it also slips out of your control long enough to cause serious harm."

"Ha ha ha." John said, rolling his eyes. "Just go back to bed, mate."

"Fine, I hope to see you in the morning." St. John smiled cheerfully at him until he disappeared from sight in the dark hallways. He then skipped back out into the kitchen and the fun began. He put the confetti in the cake then mixed it the eggbeater. That came out simply disastrous. He had egg shells, confetti, butter, and other things stuck to him. It was all over the kitchen. He slipped on something and fell hard on his back. He opened his eyes and groaned. He reminded himself never to slip and fall on his back in the kitchen again. The hard tile floors do horrible wonders on one's back. He reached up and tried unsuccessfully to pull down a cake pan. He was showered in a clattering, banging assortment of pots and pans with it.

"Crikey, everythin's out to get me." The Australian piled everything back in the cupboard. He then began the fun of scraping the stuff remaining in the bowl into the pan. He preheated the oven and congratulated himself since he did something right. He hoped it was to the right temperature, since he didn't know about the whole stove paragraph they put on the box. He was sure the pan was stick-free, because even Kitty's muffins didn't stick and that was saying something. He put it in and sat down at the table. He flipped through a magazine and got so involved in an article that he totally forgot about his cake. He was alert when the smoke alarm went off. He took the battery out and checked on his cake. It didn't look too bad, except that the confetti was black and turned to ash when he touched it. Some small pieces were still on fire. He shook his head again and muttered obscenities. He wondered if anyone would like it.. It had to be better than some of Kitty's cooking.


Sorry to have kept you so long, but I had horrible writer's block. That really sucked. I wish I didn't have it.. =(