Author Notes:
My canon on the Mansion sucks, but it just seems logical they'd have some kind of security in place, you know? Thanks to Sare for primary beta.

*****

"Rogue, may I speak to you for a few minutes?"

Dr. Grey at the rec room door looking concerned just meant bad things. Period. And just by her expression, he could guess the bad thing.

St. John wondered who told her, but it really didn't matter, and in any case, the damage was done. Jubes and Kitty, of course, had guessed when they unpacked and noted the look of Rogue's bed, but hell, they'd keep their mouths shut. Bobby wouldn't breathe a word of anything that could possibly bring Rogue to the attention of the Fearless Leaders, and Remy--well, St. John knew Remy, knew he wouldn't turn on her that way. So it wasn't one of them, so it really didn't matter.

But it did, and it bothered him. He knew the tone of Dr. Grey's voice didn't bode well for Rogue, saw her eyes widen just a little as she untangled herself from him and Jubilee (and St. John didn't miss Dr. Grey's wince at how the five of them were sprawled on the couch with Rogue). Rogue slowly walked over, normal as always, but St. John had seen the expression on Dr. Grey's face and knew exactly what had happened.

They'd found out Rogue wasn't sleeping in her room. He guessed Rogue probably knew that too.

"Johnny," whispered Jubilee, and he nodded, glancing around quickly to see Dr. Grey and Rogue had left the room. "Kitty, go with him--can you phase him through with you?"

Kitty, startled, straightened and elbowed Remy, who grunted something while smoking through yet another--fiftieth? shit, a lot, he was stressed--cigarette.

"Jubes, I don't have that kind of control--"

No, St. John did not want to go through a wall and end up stuck in it. Of all the ways he'd considered that he could die, that one hadn't shown up on the acceptable list by a long shot. Not that he considered it more than, say, once a day, when it hit him yet again that he was training for life of going out and fighting people who would get quite a kick out of killing him.

Of course, he wasn't fixated on the idea or anything. But no death by dephasing in walls. Not the way he wanted to go. Especially considering how bad he'd look in his casket.

"Come on--if they go into the office, I'll need you to run interference. Let's go."

Nodding slowly--and possibly still a little shaken by Jubes' suggestion--she got to her feet and followed him down the hall--careful, listen for the footsteps--toward the offices, down the main hall. Good. Not too much trouble, not with all the damn plants just growing away in all the halls. And what the hell was that guy's name anyway?

Silly thoughts, but they entertained him while they snuck down the main hall and slowly and carefully toward Mr. Summers' office--

--oh shit, it was the elevator. They were going down to Dr. Grey's office.

Both St. John and Kitty came to a dismayed stop and ducked behind a pillar as Dr. Grey put in the codes and the door obediently opened. Just barely, St. John could see Rogue watching, almost casually, as Dr. Grey's fingers flicked over the keys--well, Rogue had the new code now.

But they sure as hell didn't.

"What the hell do we do now?" Kitty hissed, pressed beside him to the pillar. St. John considered all the options.

"Who else would have the codes?"

"Teachers," Kitty answered, frowning, then her face lit up. "Logan does--"

St. John actually froze--well, not as in cold, though his body certainly felt that way the second the sense of Kitty's words penetrated.

"Have you lost your fucking mind?" he hissed. "You wanna send Logan down there? Rogue'd kill us, and he sure as hell ain't gonna tell us without wantin' to find out what we want with them. And besides, that'll take too long to find him--we gotta be down there *now*."

Plan. He needed a plan. He was good at plans--reason over emotion, think things through. Go to option one.

"Kitty, can you phase down to the next level and bring the elevator up?"

"It's coded on all levels--I checked it out while the codes still worked. And don't ask about phasing through the elevator door--it stays bottom until it's called--damn good security--hold it." She blinked, obviously thinking something through. The dark eyes narrowed, and St. John held his breath. "Okay. Got an idea. Remy. Be right back." Down the polished floor she ran, phasing straight through the wall in her way, and St. John slowly came out from behind the pillar, looking at the elevator. Remy couldn't have the new codes--they had enough sense to keep stuff like that from a semi-reformed thief. Okay. So there it was. No codes. Elevator, only way down, no codes. But there had to be a way.

"...and no codes." Kitty's voice was desperate, and he wished, just a little quieter. No need to advertise, babe. Really.

"Cher, Remy don't--"

"St. John--"

Shit, of course not.

Elevators only way down. Which was security. Keep everything safe. Of course, also down there were the labs, the medical facilities. Big things. Things that wouldn't fit in the elevator. Hangar for that, had to have an outside entrance somewhere, but hell if St. John knew where and doing an inch by inch search was out of the question--and hell, it'd take forever to get over there.

Hmm. Things that could go boom down there. Big boom, gotta run fast, maybe the computers go haywire and can't use the elevator. Maybe a fire or a chemical spill. Things--

"Stairs."

Both Kitty and Remy blinked, staring at him, then Remy suddenly blinked again, thoughtfully, nodding. St. John took two steps, coming very close to picking Remy up and shoving him against the wall in hopes the answer would come just that much faster. No, not a good idea. But a tempting one.

"You've cased this whole place and you know every door. Which ones wouldn't work?"

*****

It took two minutes--they weren't far away and St. John stared at the almost hidden panel before opening it up and checking it out. Coded. Fuck

"Kitty, can you phase down one level and find this? They wouldn't code the inner doors--these are emergency based, take too long if they had to punch through every time. Can you get down like that?"

Kitty nodded slowly--thinking through her control, he could see her centering herself.

"Eight foot ceilings--when I get through, it's gonna be a fall."

"You know how to fall." And she did--you didn't get through the first day of training without learning how to fall. Relax your body, let nature take it's course. Then get your ass back up and go. He'd seen her go through eight foot thick metal and had seen her go through her own bed. She could do this.

"I know how to fall."

It was a slightly surreal and fascinating experience to watch Kitty phase over, sinking in--her control wasn't great yet and it was probably a little spooky for her to do it at all, so it went faster than probably she was ready for, and her head disappeared--then nothing. Like quicksand on fast forward. He and Remy both held their breath, waiting, waiting, waiting--and in fifteen seconds, he heard the magnetic locks flip over and Kitty was smiling. And panting. But smiling definitely.

"Perfect, babe."

It was only four flights--Dr. Grey's office was on the second below level with the medlab, and they emerged a little disoriented, staring down the hallways trying to decide which way to go.

"Rogue--" It was Mr. Summers, and he didn't sound happy. Oh shit.

Carefully, St. John and Kitty snuck toward the voices--easy enough, Mr. Summers had a very carrying voice. Stopped at the office door and St. John carefully peeked in.

In normal terms, it would probably be called a lab. Yes, it had a desk and chair and more shelves than St. John even wanted to think about, full of frightening amounts of massive books full of long Latin words that named diseases, disorders, and other sundry. But it was also where Dr. Grey did her own projects. A good lab table, a selection of some very interesting chemical compounds that he had an urge to check out. Microscope. Doctor things.

Kitty leaned over his shoulder to check it out as well and he adjusted his balance back to his heels and grabbed the doorframe with one hand--careful, babe, we so don't wanna be caught.

Dr. Grey, and Mr. Summers were nearer the door, and St. John supposed that if they hadn't been so totally focused on Rogue, they might have just sensed him--because shit, he was less than four feet away. Rogue was curled up in a chair, looking less like herself--looking--God.

Oh God, what the fuck had they been saying to her?

On one hand, he understood--Rogue was with her teachers, her guardians, the people who fed and clothed and housed her, and she didn't take that lightly. And years of conditioning--years and years and years of conditioning--that meant that the word teacher, guardian, was synonymous with respect, with being right. She was Rogue, but she was also an eighteen year old girl being confronted by the only true authorities in her life, the ones that decided what she ate, what classes she took, and what her training would entail. For all intents and purposes, her parents, and she didn't take that lightly either. So she sat in that chair and listened because even Logan in her head couldn't quite break eighteen years of that kind of mindset.

Though he really wished he could. Really wished Logan would wake up right this second.

"Rogue, we only want what's best for you." Dr. Grey, seated in another chair, had leaned a little forward, and her expression was all worry--honest worry. He didn't doubt for a second that she believed whatever the hell it was she was telling Rogue.

That didn't make it any easier to forgive though. Not with Rogue looking like that.

"I understand you think you have feelings for Logan. And that--that you can somehow coax him into reciprocating his feelings--by doing this."

By sleeping in his room? Sleeping? Of course, they wouldn't assume that she was just sleeping, that Logan was worried about her, because they'd lived with her nightmares so long they really didn't realize--in that forest for trees way--what the problem was. Or that there was a problem at all. They assumed that Rogue had crawled into bed with Logan and the two were fucking like bunnies. Which he really wouldn't put past Rogue, in all honesty--but not Logan's style.

No, on short acquaintance, St. John just didn't think that Logan was gonna combine Rogue's bad nights with relationship sex. Or even casual sex. So this didn't say much about their opinion of their own teammate--or Rogue, for that matter.

"But Rogue--he's years older than you are. Perhaps decades--and he is not the type to stay in one place for very long, even should--something--happen between you."

"Dr. Grey--"

"Jean, Rogue. I'm not speaking to you as your teacher."

Rogue's back straightened, eyes going wide. Getting a little strength from that.

"Oh? Summoning me out of the rec room wasn't that? Then why the hell am I here?"

Mr. Summers winced, but merely waited as Dr. Grey frowned, tapping her manicured fingers neatly on the arm of her chair.

"This isn't an issue of conduct, Rogue. We aren't here to try and restrict you--"

"I don't need to hear this, Dr. Grey. If you'll excuse me--" Discomfort on every line of her body--she wanted to be gone, she wanted to be gone now, and even from the door, he could see her increased respiration, the way she flexed her hands in her lap, the shift of her legs. But it was conditioning that held--she couldn't walk out on them in cold blood. Angry, yes, and he thought she very well might be, but under it all--just that hint of uncertainty that she covered so well with them, with her friends. That hint that adults, somehow, could always smell on you like some sort of weird perfume.

"Rogue, you do need to hear this." And that was Mr. Summers now, speaking for the first time. Leaning forward a little, elbows on knees, deep in his most serious look and mood. Tone shifting--he wasn't into the friend bullshit Jean was trying to pull. He was all business. "After the incident with Remy, you understand our concerns on the matter. Remy was injured quite badly--"

It snapped over then--he could actually see it, when she straightened her back, head coming up--they hit a vulnerable spot with such accuracy that even though he understood their reasoning, he hated them for it, for pulling out one slip in six months--fuck, one slip that wasn't even her fault. She didn't need this.

"He was unconscious for twelve and a half hours and was pretty willing to try again if I was interested." A pause, then her voice changed, cooling down as quickly as it'd flared. She was keeping her temper. "Your concerns are noted, but whatever goes on between me and Logan behind his door is my business and his. Age of consent and all. I appreciate your concern, I do. But I'd prefer you stayed out of my private life." She stood up--fingers still flexing, but she was back in control of herself. She was Rogue again, not frightened by anything--probably remembering she had Logan only a few floors away, and shit, wouldn't he just flip to hear this conversation? God, so glad, so glad they hadn't gone to him. This was bad. Logan here would qualify as Worse.

"Rogue--"

"What are you worried about? That I'll fuck him or that he'll take advantage of me?" Rogue shook her head, eyes shutting briefly, before she began to walk by. "I'm not gonna discuss it, Cyke. So just quit."

"I don't want to see you in the isolation ward again, Rogue. That frightened us all badly. We didn't know--we didn't know if you'd make it out whole."

Rogue's body went perfectly still and St. John watched the expression on her face shift, her eyes go down for just a second. A second of weakness that he knew they caught.

"You have no right," she breathed. Didn't move.

"We sat through it, Rogue. How much do you remember of what happened?"

Rogue remembered damn little. Remembered Remy touching her, remembered the flush of sensory information, remembered seeing Jubes briefly--first clear moment, she said, was snapping back out with Jubilee sitting with her, trying to talk her out, talk her down. Broken fingers, a sprained ankle, she'd been shocked to find the injuries, he remembered her staring at her hands, at her feet, stripping down to the skin to categorize the damage to her body. No, Rogue didn't have any clear memories, and St. John had always thought that was a good thing, remembering how that room had looked with her curled up in it.

"If you'd gotten lose--what would have happened?" Mr. Summers stood up, and there was honest worry in his voice. "You could have injured not just yourself, but others as well. We're concerned, because it isn't just your private life--your actions do affect others. Not just you."

If she hadn't been locked up, it probably wouldn't have happened at all. They all knew that, but for the first time, he wondered if she knew that. And one look at her face told her that she didn't--shit, shit, shit, Logan needed to know, he needed to know yesterday, before this conversation could take place.

And she needed to be out of there, now, right now, before anything else could happen, before they got another thought into her head that could potentially unsettle her again.

Backing away, St. John crouched a little away from the door--they were saying more now, telling her what happened that day, things he didn't even know because they'd been the only witnesses. Things that hurt her to hear, grounding into her the difference, why she had to be more careful than the rest of them, she had to be--

Fuck them. They weren't gonna do this to her.

"Kitty." Hoped she could hear the whisper.

"I'm thinking--fuck, where's a telepath when you need one?"

He was utterly relieved she was following his train of thought so well. Taking a breath, he began to think. Walking in would stop it, but St. John didn't think that Rogue would take that too well. And then, somehow, Dr. Grey and Mr. Summers would find out about the door trick and shit, they might need that again. Shit, shit, shit. Another breath. Think, St. John. Think. There's a way. A distraction. They needed a distraction.

Well, they had stairs for a reason, after all.

"Kitty, find the fire detector."

Blinking, she stared at him as he straightened. Gave him a long look, then nodded quickly.

"Johnny--"

He grinned, feeling the rush of heat that he called up--by will, no emotional tangles required. Very nice. Control.

"It'll be just a little fire."

Very little.

The End