The next morning Bobby's core temperature was hovering right around eighty-eight degrees and Jean saw fit for him to leave. She was grateful it was a Saturday since that meant he could go straight to his room and rest. Bobby put up a bit of a fight on that one, but Jean put her foot down and he acquiesced to her orders. He made his way back to his room slowly, leaning on the wall at times because he still felt a little woozy, something that both Jean and Hank had told him would fade the more rest he got.

He shuffled slowly past Piotr with a slight wave. Collasus was carrying a television under his arm, no doubt returning it to the rec room. Bobby was almost to the staircase when he both heard and felt the resounding crash that echoed through the Mansion. He turned as quickly as he could, ignoring the slight vertigo, and looked bewildered at Piotr on the floor, absently rubbing his backside.

"What did you do?" Bobby asked, looking for anything that Piotr might have tripped over.

"What did I do?" Piotr asked with a glare from the floor. "You mean you. What did you do!"

"Huh?" Confused, Bobby looked past Piotr and saw the trail of slick, icy footprints from Medical. He watched Piotr get up, wincing at the dent in the hardwood and then, leaning against the wall for support, lifted a shoe to look at the bottom. Sure enough there was ice on the sole. Looking up at Piotr, he said, sincerely, "I'm sorry. Really, I'm sorry."

Piotr glared at him for another second before sighing. "It's okay. I'm just bruised." He watched Bobby take another step toward the stairs. "Uh, but now that you know, why aren't you turning it off?"

Bobby looked back at another footprint and leaned more against the wall. "I tried." He stumbled to the stairs and sat down hard on the bottom step. "I think you need to go get somebody."

With one last look at how pale Bobby was, Piotr nodded in agreement and hurried off.

****

"So Bobby's powers are on the fritz?" Logan asked as he, Hank, Scott and Jean sat in the Professor's office. He was chewing on one of his trademark cigars, mildly interested in the fact that the heat seemed to be screwing with the Iceman's abilities to control his mutation.

"He left icy footprints all the way from Medical to the staircase," Scott said dryly, remembering how pale Bobby had looked sitting forlorn on the steps, a circle of ice beneath his feet from the fast tapping of his right leg. "What happens if his power does something that we can't control?"

Xavier steepled his fingers on his desk thoughtfully. "We'll continue to monitor him and watch for signs that it may be getting worse. At this point, I believe that's all we can do. I think his body just needs time to readjust itself."

Jean and Hank nodded wisely while Logan looked a little apprehensive. Only time would tell.

****

Bobby sat with his math book in the library, thumbing through the pages that'd he'd missed in class when he'd passed out and had his stay in Medical. It wasn't overly difficult, but it was something that he needed all his concentration for, and the itch on his right leg didn't want to go away. He scratched at it absently with a pencil, not taking his eyes off his work.

"How's the Icicle today?"

Startled, Bobby jumped, dropping his pencil on the floor. He looked up, glaring at the face of his grinning roommate and best friend, Saint John Allerdyce.

"Not bad," Bobby said, bending over for his pencil. Straightening up, he looked at John and asked, "Have you set anything on fire lately?"

John looked thoughtful at the question and shook his head. "Nah." He glanced at his watch. "Do you wanna go get some lunch?"

Bobby's stomach chose that moment to growl and he smirked. "The beast has spoken. Let's get some food." He stood up, slightly off balance and packed away his things. Slinging his backpack on his back, he stepped around the edge of the table and leaned heavily to the right with a clunking sound. He looked at John's raised eyebrows and barely hid laugh before looking at his own right leg which was encased in ice from mid-thigh to foot, completely around his sneaker.

"Don't. Say. A. Word." Bobby growled, limping past the other boy on his way to the door. People at other tables looked up and either openly stared or laughed.

"I didn't say a thing," John protested, jogging to catch up with the Iceman.

"Yeah, well, you were thinking it," he said, yanking open the door.

"So what if I was thinking you could make a great imitation pirate, at least I didn't say it."

Bobby growled again and stalked off toward the dining room.

****

End of Part II

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