Author Notes:
There are only two absolutes in stories--a beginning and an end. So I decided to be different and start at the end. We'll get to the beginning later.

Dedication: Sare for the beta and the good advice. Love ya, darling.

*****

It was five in the morning and St. John had gotten exactly, no more than, but exactly, one hour of sleep that night. He was grumpy, tired, and on that fine edge of exhaustion and hyper-energetic, and he felt himself quiver as he used his foot to coax the chair from behind his desk and sit down.

Sitting was good. Laying down would be even better, but he knew himself well enough to know that the second he was prone, he'd be out like a light, no matter his emotional state. Which, considering he had to be up in less than an hour for kitchen duty, was probably not the brightest idea.

And why the hell did everyone come to his room? Shit, they had rooms of their own. They wanna have a war council, they could damn well do it somewhere else.

"We got a problem."

Remy and Kitty had shown up only a few minutes before, suspiciously at the same time, but Jubilee, stretched out on his bed, didn't react, so he had to assume either she didn't care (which damn it, she did, he knew she did) or that she'd just been earlier than them. Currently, she was searching under his bed for snack food (she knew he kept a constant supply for emergency munchie-moments), and emerged with a bag of potato chips clutched triumphantly in one hand. He wasn't even sure they were good anymore--on the other hand, they were sealed up in a foil baggy, so maybe potato chips were like Twinkies and lasted forever. Who knew?

"Does anyone know when they left?" asked Kitty, pulling herself up by Jubilee and helping herself to a chip. Dollars to donuts neither of them had been asleep all night either--though he doubted that Rogue had anything to do with the first few hours. Kitty had been practicing her sleight of hand for future shoplifting endeavors since the Mall Incident (more put out by the fact she'd failed than the entire punishment business). Hell, he knew Jubes was still sort of pissed she hadn't been able to go. Probably thought if she'd been there, it would have gone smoother. Which it very well might have--Jubes could talk them out of any situation under the sun.

"Nope. After dinner--I ate with her and she seemed fine," said St. John quietly, kicking absently at the bed before bracing a foot on the mattress and balancing himself on the back legs, using the desk to brace the back of the chair. "So was Bobby--they said they were going to the library and do some research."

Oddly, they took that at face value. He had to wonder about their perception.

"Okay. So they disappeared after dinner, but before bedchecks at midnight."

Their punishment for the Mall Incident had been curious in its creativity. Mandatory lights-out at nine (which was easy to avoid), bedchecks at midnight, bedchecks at three (easy, again, and he suspected Xavier knew that), up at six for kitchen duty (whoo-hoo). Their mornings still belonged to Logan, but their afternoons now belonged to Mr. Summers, who taught a class on ethics (God help them), after which everyone but Rogue had about two hours of relatively free time before dinner. Relatively being the key word--the rec room or their own rooms, under direct adult supervision--and St. John and Co put their foot down at the idea of any of the teachers sitting in their rooms, so it was the rec room, period. Restriction to not just campus but the mansion itself. No shopping, no cruising, no going outside to go swimming. Period.

Rogue, lucky her, didn't even get that--her extra sessions with Logan had been extended until fifteen minutes before dinner, and after that, she had her usual sessions with the Professor twice a week. Though she wasn't complaining, and St. John supposed that if the Professor's idea of punishment was to make her stay in Logan's company, Rogue was definitely rethinking the merits of a criminal lifestyle in a favorable light.

The Professor definitely had an odd sense of humor. Had to give him credit.

"How'd you cover for Bobby at nine?" asked Kitty curiously. St. John shrugged.

"He's not on restriction," St. John answered coolly. He was the only one that was. Jubilee was still grounded for the candy incident. Good ole Bobby, miniature Mr. Summers, an example to them all of good behavior, and St. John had seen the look of horror on Bobby's face when Mr. Summers had actually said that out loud in front of what seemed to be most of the school at dinner the night they'd been picked up. Bobby, not a bad mark on his record (except for that little spitball-and-plasma incident awhile back, and really, that had been in the name of science). St. John knew Dr. Grey suspected that even if Bobby and Jubes hadn't actually participated in the Mall Incident, they'd known about it (which all four co-conspirators denied), but nothing could be done with suspicions, after all. So Bobby was perfectly within his rights to wander off if he wanted to, though certainly he still had a curfew that required him to be in bed on weekdays by midnight.

This was a weekday. It was five, no Bobby. No Rogue. Therefore, probably together, and St. John bit down on his lip as his eyes circled the room. For once, his mutation was being very quiet--possibly because it suspected that in this particular instance, St. John probably wouldn't be very interested in controlling it.

"How'd you cover for Rogue?" St. John asked Jubilee, trying to sound interested, and Jubilee frowned.

"It was easy, and that's odd--you know Dr. Grey wants visual confirmation and all that. I just turned on the shower when I heard her coming and said she was in there and that Logan had called her late to talk to her, so she'd only just gotten back. She looked all odd and didn't even check, you know? I guess she didn't do any of her telepathic crap either, because she never said a word, just left."

St. John nodded slowly and Kitty pulled out another potato chip, crunching morosely.

"How long 'as Logan been pacin' downstairs?" asked Remy softly.

"Since bedchecks," Kitty stated. "He woke us all up and you're just lucky he didn't think she'd be in your room. He asked us all kinds of questions--seemed really more growly than usual, ya know?"

"Yeah, I imagine. He wasn't too happy to see Bobby gone from our room either." St. John took a breath, let it out evenly. "He asked me three times where he was--like I was hidin' the information or somethin'."

"Which you would have if you knew, and he knows that," Jubilee said practically, ducking her head to check the bag for another chip. "S'okay--we got a thirty minute interrogation from Scooter that was pretty damn funny. Logan ordered the whole house searched and Scooter said he was overreacting to the incident." Jubes looked thoughtful. "Though I gotta wonder--you know Logan doesn't care when Rogue acts out. He didn't even care she was helpin' shoplift, you know, just got pissed that she got caught. And he snuck her out of here after curfew twice so they could play pool in town. So why the hell is he freaking about it now?"

St. John shifted a little and tried to get comfortable. When he looked up, all eyes were on him. Oh wow.

"Huh?" God, did he sound defensive.

"What do you know, Johnny?" asked Jubilee suspiciously. Fuck, they knew him too well. "You're takin' this way too calm, boy-o."

"Nothin'."

Kitty shifted closer, eyes narrowing.

"If you did, you'd never tell on Bobby." Her voice was thoughtful, low. "God knows what's between you and Roguey, but you--"

"There's nothing between me and Rogue."

Jubilee's eyes went down, freezing briefly at his collar.

"You got her lipstick on your shirt, Johnny." A pause. "How'd you get lipstick there?"

St. John started, knowing he looked guilty, and glanced down at the white collar of his shirt. Imprinted it was a smear of red. Definitely in the shape of lips. Definitely, he should have changed clothes, but he hadn't really thought ahead much either.

"Maybe I like lipstick." Oh wow, that was sooo bright. He could talk his way out of a lot of things, but not that lipstick. At this point, he was too close to exhaustion to care.

Remy sat straight, eyes narrowing, and both Kitty and Jubilee as one jumped off his bed. Before he could think--and why the hell had he let them sit on his bed without checking it first?--they jerked back the sheets and Remy stood up, slowly walking over to see the smears of lipstick across the sheet and he knew they could smell the very lightest trace of her perfume.

And there was no way he could talk his way out of that perfume or that sheet.

"Johnny--"

"It's not your business," he said sharply, getting up. Before he got five inches, Kitty was blocking the door, arms crossed over her chest, watching him, dawning suspicion on her face. Jubilee took his right, and Remy was already moving into center.

"Logan was in here for awhile--he smelled somethin', didn't he? What the fuck is goin' on, Johnny?" Jubes said slowly, working it out. "You know somethin'. You know where they are."

"Fuck if I do." He was bracketed--wow, they really were learning from Logan, this was a classic attack pattern. All he had was the wall behind him. "They left, I wished their asses well, and that's all there is to it. You wanna make somethin' more, feel absolutely free to get the fuck outta my room to do it."

Even he was surprised by that last line, and blinked at himself, wondering when he became the type of person to take out his anger on someone else. Kitty drew back as if he'd hit her, but Jubilee reacted true to type. Grabbing her shoes from beside his bed, she turned to the door

"Gotcha, babe. Fuck yourself, Johnny. I don't need this crap. We'll find out on our own. If you don't feel like puttin' out the energy to be worried that they disappeared without tellin' a person where the fuck they'll be, you just sit here and we'll do the work. Got it?"

"Trust me, Jubes, they're fine. Rogue's gettin' a little practice in on Bobby and he's stupid enough to fall for it."

Their reaction was nothing short of shock.

"She's not into him like that."

"She changed her mind, apparently. You see them 'round here?" St. John wanted them to leave, leave now--his temperature was rising, because they were making him think about it, and he couldn't do that right now, he just couldn't. Running his palms down his pajama bottoms, knowing the burn wouldn't stop until he could center himself, he took a breath, trying to bring everything under control. Keep his voice even. "They left--I don't know where, but I do know why. She wants to fuck around with Drake, she fucking can. I'm not her keeper and I'm not his. So I don't give a good fuck what they do. So get the hell outta my room and leave me the hell outta it, 'kay? You wanna play private eye and cater to Rogue's little personality quirks, feel oh so fucking free, because I'm done with it, got it?"

"Johnny--"

What the fuck would it take?

"Get the fuck out, Kittycat. All of you. I'm not interested--I don't care. Get it this time? I. Don't. Care. Get out."

For a second, he almost thought they might stay. But Jubilee, clutching her shoes, turned on her heel, grabbing Kitty by the arm and pushing the door open. One glance from Kitty, before Remy blocked his view, and then the door closed with ominous care, and St. John sat down on his bed, shutting his eyes tight and hating, hating, hating, that anything could make him feel like this.

"Fuck her if she wants to play like that."

Talking to himself couldn't be a sign of anything good, but he didn't much care about that either. Laying back down, he rolled until he buried his head in the pillow, still smelling the lingering traces of Rogue's perfume.