I know, I know. I'm late. My two weeks have passed. I suck. But, you're not allowed to be mad at me. Okay, you can, but I'd rather you weren't. You see, I just celebrated my birthday with weekend. As a present, every one should review and tell me how awesome I am. Lie if you have to.

Well here you go. Don't kill me. I had some trouble with this one, so yeah. I'm gonna blame my lateness on that. Also, there are these wonderful little things called Crossovers. Man, I don't even know, I love crossovers. Do you like crossovers?

"You know, you aren't that bad of a cook, old man," Hawthorne says simply, finishing off her bacon. Logan lets out a low growl. The girl crinkles her nose up at him. "That was a compliment, sheesh. And you are old. Ginger and Oreo told me when we went shopping yesterday."

"And why would they tell ya that?" he demands. She shrugs nonchalantly.

"Females talk. You can get them to talk about anything, long as you give the conversation a little push." She pauses before looking up at him with a wicked little grin. "Wolverine. So, do I get a cool codename too?"

"No." His answer is blunt and hard.

"Ah, come on, everyone else has one!" She exclaims. "Storm, Cyclops, Pyro, Iceman, Rogue. Because there is no way in hell that's her real name."

"Not gonna happen, Boots, so stop askin'." He ignores her glare. "Besides, you're too small to do any fighting without getting hurt."

Her jaw drops. "I'm sorry, but did you forget how we met?"

"And ya almost got shot."

"You distracted me. Wouldn't have happened if I was alone."

"I distracted you?"

"Yes. Civilians cause all sorts of problems," she says matter of factly.

"Civilians?" Logan frowns at her choice of words. She doesn't seem to notice, seeing as to how she takes a bite of her toast and washes it down with a drink of milk. Civilians. That's the kind of word a soldier would use.

"Yes. Rule One: Take out what's needs to be taken out, but do not harm the civilians." Hawthorne stops short, a blank look coating her face, her dark eyes seeming to go dull. Logan frowns as she opens and closes her mouth, but no words come out.

"Boots, ya alright?"

Her next words are soft and uncertain. "Doing so will result in severe punishment." She rubs her wrists absentmindedly. Logan can only stare at her before something flashes in her eyes and she shakes her head. She looks up at Logan. "What?"

"What was that?" he demanded.

"What was what?" she counters, confusion lacing her expression.

"That whole no hurtin' civilians, severe punishment shit," Logan snaps. Hawthorne stares at him blankly.

"Dude, what're you talking about?" she demands before shaking her head and pushing away her plate. "Anyway, I'm done, and Ginger and Shades wanted to see me, so can I go now?"

Logan looks down at her, watching her face for any signs that she's faking not knowing what he's talking about. There's nothing. Either she's a pro actress, which he has a feeling she is, or she's serious. The Canadian is torn between the two.

"Dude, stop staring." She narrowed her eyes at him accusingly. "I'm going now," she states, turning the stool away from the island she sits at and hops down.

Logan lets out a frustrated growl before waving her off. "You have a session with Chuck later, don't forget."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," she says simply. "See ya, Claws."

Logan shakes his head. He's definitely going to have to talk to Chuck about this.

"Right, so, what're we here for?" I ask nonchalantly, leaning back in my chair and balancing it on the back two feet. Across the table are Ginger and Shades, both with disapproving looks coated on their expression. We're in on of the class rooms, and judging by the posters, it's some sort of math class.

My chair slams back down. Ginger raises a brow at me and I crinkle my nose at her before crossing my arms.

"We want to talk about your results from your placement tests," Shades says simply. I frown at that.

"What about them? I didn't fail, did I? I know I'm not a genius, but come on."

"No, no, nothing like that," Ginger says in a rush, holding her hands up. She looks over at Shades and takes a breath. "Hawthorne, do you remember anything about your educational experience?"

I just look at her for a second, somewhat confused by what she means. "Like, school?" She nods. I pout a bit as I think for a second. All I get is that great big ugly wall keeping everything hidden. "Not a clue. I know stuff; I just don't know how I know said stuff. It gets pretty fuc—"

"Language!" they both snap in unison. I hold my hands up in defense.

"Shit, tear a kid's head off, why don't you." They both give me hard looks. Well, I can't really see Shades's eyes, but his jaw is clenched. "Right. Sorry. I'll keep the cussing off until I'm with Claws." It doesn't do much, but they relax a bit with the compromise. "So, school crap?"

Shades nods and picks a couple of sheets of paper from the table. "We got your scores back this morning and you did exceptionally well with all of the subjects. Your scores are amazing," he states. I do a fist pump.

"Boom! Check it, I'm awesome! Do I get, like, candy now or something?"

"With the exclusion of math," Ginger says simply.

I cock my head to the side and frown. "I'm sorry, run that by me again?" Ginger sighs.

"Your scores for almost every subject are phenomenal, proving advanced understanding to the subjects." She nods to Shades and he sets the papers in front of me. There's a bunch of charts with numbers and bar graphs and other nonsensical things I don't care about. "This test is based on the ACT, and if you took out the math subject, you could easily get into any school of your choosing."

"Right, I'm not going to school. What's the problem with my math stuff?" I demand. They frown at my declaration, but decide to humor me. Shades speaks.

"Well, of the five subjects, math was your lowest scoring."

"Because math sucks," I say hotly. "Like, seriously, what the hell, numbers are confusing enough." The two Creeps exchange looks at my mini-rant. "Like what, Satan one day declared: And let there be letters in math, just to fuck with the minds of people all through the course of history."

Ginger stares at me for a second, studying. I don't like being studied. Finally, she speaks. "Hawthorne, have you always had a problem with numbers?"

I crinkle my nose and look away. "Not so much a problem as numbers are a bunch of dicks." I peek up at the adults. They're giving me a look. I sigh and throw my hands up. "Okay, so I get numbers mixed up sometimes, not like it's gonna kill me. I just won't ever do anything that needs math."

"Everything needs math, despite what you may think," Shades says simply. I narrow my eyes at him.

"I'll… I'll carry a calculator around…" I say uncertainly. Balls, that won't work. Calculators are confusing. I slump down in my chair. "So what?"

"Well," Ginger starts. "There isn't much we can improve for the other subjects, but you can't just spend the days lounging while the other students are in class, so we will put you in your choice of elective classes." She holds out another paper to me. I look at it for a second before taking it. There's a list of subjects on it. "Pick which ones that interest you and by Tuesday we'll have you in class with everyone else."

"As for math," Shades picks up. "You'll have a remedial math class. It's a small class with other students that have trouble with the subject." I let my shoulders fall as he goes on. "Also, group study sessions."

"Math for dummies. Awesome." I glance down at the slip Ginger gave me. "What's Danger Room?" I ask, looking up at them. Then I grin. "Ooo, is that what Claws teaches? Can I have that? Think of all the crap I can put him through."

Shades grins. "Yes. Yes, you can definitely have that." Ginger glares at him before smacking his arm.

"Scott, don't encourage her!"

"She's going to have to get in there eventually," Shades says defensively. "Just this way, I get to see Logan being annoyed."

I grin. Shades ain't that bad. Ain't that bad at all.

He cries. Begs. Blubbers on about promised money. The room is well lit, revealing an expensive desk, a leather-covered chair, a large bookshelf that's nothing more than a waste of space. The study is an overall nice room. Its occupants are another story.

Dark eyes narrow in disgust. The sniveling man is back against the bookshelf, the chair and desk acting as the only thing between him and what he knows is Death.

"You failed to mention your wife's pregnancy." The cold voice cuts through the room, causing the man to flinch back in fear. "I would congratulate you, but considering the circumstances…" His Death trails off, letting the silence do its work.

The man shakes his head in sudden outrage. "I never asked for the damn brat. She should have gotten rid of it like I told her too!"

Something dark, something terrifying, something inhuman flashes in His Death's eyes. It's quickly replaced with apathy, but the damage is done. The man lets out a whimper.

"Yes, well, as of," His Death glances up at the clock on the wall, "Three hours ago, the agreement is null and void."

"But I—"

"Don't whine. It does you no good."

"Hawthorne, do you mind telling me what you saw?"

The girl looks up at the man with blank eyes. Professor Xavier is worried for a split second before Hawthorne blinks, shaking her head. Her face is expressionless, impossible to read.

"What I saw?" She crinkles her nose, a quirk Xavier has noticed she does quite often. "I…" She looks down at her hands, tracing one of the smaller scars with a finger. "I didn't see anything."

Her voice quivers just a tiny bit. She's lying; Xavier knows this. She doesn't meet his eyes, instead finding her scars quite interesting. As much as he wants to search her mind for the truth, he had given her his word that he would stay out unless she said otherwise. He is a man of his word, so he resists the temptation. Instead he lets out a tired sigh.

"That's alright." He studies her for a second longer. "Any luck with the wall?"

"Chsh, the thing is impossible," she mutters. "It's like every lock is a Rubix Cube with thirty-six little boxes on each side." Xavier can't help but chuckle at the comparison.

"Understand, Hawthorne, that this may take longer than usual. The wall is very thorough. Whoever put it up knew what they were doing." Hawthorne looks away in obvious annoyance. Xavier thinks for a minute. "Perhaps you should talk to Logan."

"I'm tired of talking to Claws," Hawthorne grumbles. She looks up, her eyes suddenly wide. "You know that tard is making me eat in the kitchen, and he won't let me leave until I finish, even if I'm about to explode!" She crosses her arms and sinks down into chair she's sitting in. "Tard."

Xavier gives a warm smile at her outburst. "He's simply worried about you, is all."

"Well tell him to stop. I can take care of myself." She glares at the floor. "Everyone here seems to think I'm such a fragile little kid that can't do anything, that I need to be taken care of. I'm not and I don't need to be babysat. I'm not a child."

Xavier nods. "Of course. However, you must understand where they all come from."

"Doesn't mean I like it," the girl mutters.

"Perhaps…" the Professor trails off in his thoughts. Hawthorne looks up at him, something like suspicion lacing her features. "Hawthorne, have you been to the Danger Room yet?" Xavier asks suddenly. The girl shakes her head. The man nods. "Of course. Well, I believe it's time to set up a time for you," he says simply. "To test your strengths," he adds. "When has Jean set you to begin your classes?"

"Er, she said she was gonna try to get me in on Tuesday."

"Very good. I will speak with the others about you presenting your powers tomorrow."

Hawthorne looks at him for a second before a large grin splits across her face.


Xavier smiles before waving his hands at her in a shooing manner. "Well, that will be all for today. It's time for lunch, and I feel Logan will be most displeased if you fail to show."

And at that Hawthorne lets out a frustrated groan and drops her face in her hands. Xavier couldn't help but give a small laugh.

Looky there, another flashback.

Thinking about AU-ifying this sucker, but probably not for another chapter or so. Also: Good news everybody! I finally have the main main conflict figured out! Woo!

All mistakes are mine and mine alone. Leave a review! Get virtual birthday cake! If I could give you real cake, I would, but I feel like it would have to be a big cake. So use your imaginations.

Stay cool, mis amigos.