We Can Explain...

We Can Explain... Chapter Fourteen (NC-17)
Disclaimers Apply

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE (tm), Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta...*sends more energy for the sinuses * InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink, and Dracena are loverly and sparkley for archiving/hosting. ProPhile-yes, yes, I know. There will be smut. Patience, Grasshopper. Morgan: *HUG * Readers/Reviewers: *glomp *



"I suggest," the Professor paused for effect, part of his mind dimly pleased that he was still stealthy even after all these years, judging by the startled twitches and gasps of the younger mutants in the garage, "that we take a short break and then repair to the study. It's getting late and some of the newer students are returning this evening. Privacy is more important than politics right now." He rolled his chair out of the way and let Scott lead the others through the kitchen and rec room, across the foyer and into the downstairs study.
Kurt and Kitty were already sitting on the settee. Kurt was as relaxed as anyone could remember seeing him though his tail-tip twitched in agitation, despite his casual pose. Kitty was paler than usual, her freckles standing out in stark relief across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Her eyes flitted from person to person before settling on the Professor. Almost unconsciously, her hand crept across the short distance separating her from Kurt and laced her fingers with his, twitching a little as his tail automatically wrapped around her ankle. "Did you tell them yet?" she blurted, the words coming in a rush, a trace of her old Valley Girl tones leaking through.
"No, not yet," the Professor said pacifically. He shot a silencing glance at the others and made a motion indicating they should all take a seat. "First, I'd like to move things along a bit. I've gathered that you were all separated and somehow, ended up in some very different areas...what I still am not too sure about is how I was unable to discover your locations using Cerebro."
"Well," Amara said neutrally, sitting gingerly on the edge of a Chippendale chair older than the Professor himself, "we would have had to use our mutations, wouldn't we, for you to find us on Cerebro?"
"It does work best that way, yes," he allowed, tilting his head to one side in an acknowledgement of the obvious. "But you meant to tell me, over the course of a week and a week in which you underwent bizarre and life threatening phenomenon, not one of you used your powers?"
"Um, I kind of did," Rogue admitted. "But it ain't like I can turn it off..." She blushed slightly, folding her hands primly in her lap. The one use of her powers had been shortly after she and Todd arrived at their destinatiod itd it had been an accident. "Sorry, Lance."
He shrugged, feigning indifference. "Ain't no thing."
Logan frowned deeply, leaning against the desk with his arms akimbo. "Wait a damned minute here...you and Toad...er...Todd..." He shook his head. "I'm confused as a virgin in a whorehouse."
"Logan," Storm said sharply over the snickers from some members of the groupI thI think what we are confused about," she continued smoothly, biting back a smirk herself, "is how you all got to be where you got to be."
"That's just it," Amara sighed. "We don't know!" She leaned against Lance as she stretched her tired legs before her. "We just...did."
Todd nodded forcefully. "When me an' Rogue got outta there car, we at at some hotel."
"What about your kidnappers?" Storm inquired, still tinged by some doubt.
"We don't know," Rogue admitted. "The trunk opened and we were alone." She frowned, picking at the edge of the seat cushion in confusion. "It's...I don't like it," she finally said firmly. "I don't like it that I haven't got a damned clue about what happened to get us to Tucson."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Logan put in, starting to pace. "How the fu...Hell...did you get to Tucson? You wouldn't have survived the whole way in a trunk!"
Scott and Jean exchanged uncomfortable glances. "Um, to tell the truth," she said a bit timidly, hating being uncertain and not being in absolute control of her memories, "we're not too sure how we got there, either." At the Professor's arched brow, she continued in a rush, "We came back here because of the bite things but there wasn't anyone home, not even Beast, so we decided to go back and look for everyone and..."
"Wait," Professor Xavier broke in. "This is becoming too confusing, even for me. I suggest we break for the evening. Tomorrow morning, I'd like to hear from Scott and Jean, then Remy and Jubilee. Is this agreeable?"
There were uncertain murmurs, but Scott spoke up over them. "Okay. That'se...e... I think we could all use a rest." In fact, his motives were more base than that. He wanted to have some time with Jean before they were all muddled again and more than that, he wanted the physical companionship they had been denied in the previous days. He hoped the Professor and Emma were in their own heads and his shields were in place as he took Jean's hand, her fingers cool against his warmer ones. "What time tomorrow?"
"Seven."
"A. M.?" Jubilee groaned. "But the sun isn't even up yet..."
"Seven," the Professor insisted. "Sharp." He nodded and Logan opened the door to the study, motioning them out. "Kurt, Kitty, another moment?"
Emma rolled her eyes at their groans, trailing Jubilee and Amara out of the study as the last one in line. She was turning ead ead up the stairs to the relative sanctuary of her room, sans Sean for the time being, when she was accosted by Sam. "Miss Frost, can we talk to you?" His eyes darted into the shadows as if seeking out spies.
She frowned at his harried manner-his cheeks bore high color and his hair was mussed as if he had been raking his fingers through it for some time. He seemed unable to look her in the eye. "We?" she asked quietly. "Do you have a mouse in your pocket, Sam?"
He vented a growl of frustration. "Theresa, get out here!"
The named girl slid out from behind the ficus forest near the door, her lips pressed together in a thin line as she met Emma's gaze defiantly. "Sam, keep your damned voice down," she hissed. "My father's got keen ears."
"Not so keen as to be able to hear you from Manhattan," Emma put in dryly. "He won't be back until very late. How may I be of service?" She noticed that neither one caught her sarcastic tone.
"We...I...um..." Sam fluttered his hands helplessly. "Damn it to Hell!"
"That is quite beyond my powers, I'm afraid," she murmured.
Theresa snorted. "Men. Emma, it's our fault this all happened..."