Hell is other people.
- Jean-Paul Sartre (1905-1980)

"Life began as the simplest of accidents. In the primordial ooze that covered the earth, it may have been only one pungent bubbling pool of it that had the specific ingredients that triggered the formation of one of the most important compounds to life kind. DeoxyriboNucleic Acid. It existed before life had begun. It was a chemical, merely a chemical that through a miracle became something more.

"That miracle was mutation.

"For some reason we may never understand, which scientists believe they are getting a grasp on now, something changed. In that pool of grunge and muck, amongst the acrid smell of volcanic expulsions, life was born through a change. It is ironic, isn't it, that man fears the one thing that brought him into being.

"Man fears many things, although it is seemingly the most powerful being on the face of the earth. Our faith in our mobility and ability to construct things is probably the only thing that keeps us from proving whether other animals are indeed intelligent enough to rival us. Such a possibility is a terrible thing to us. We make animals and the world they live in our slaves. Everything was constructed, everything tamed, everything reined and controlled for our own comfort, our own peace of mind, our own survival.

"And again, like that calm pool... something changed. And again... it was mutation.

"Mutation is a word that is thrown about, and one has to wonder whether any of the media that use it, the scientists, if anyone, understands the true nature of evolution.

"Evolution is not a one-generation event, but something that is borne through years and years of slow, gradual change. This reason alone is why so many were shocked by the recent cases of 'mutated' human beings. They displayed traits often referred to as 'powers' that seemed out of the blue, impossible to occur. I don't believe this is something that could happen in such a way. My dear reader, I suggest that perhaps this is the first noticeable sign of change in a shift that has been occurring for possibly thousands of years.

"How long has mankind been living differently from animal kind? How long has he not needed the spectacular musculature that the Orang Utan possesses, or the ragged teeth of the canine? Indeed, in many examples of evolutionary paths, a misused well of energy and growth is put to different use. When the penguin no longer wanted to fly, evolution set to fattening it up, and sleeking it down. And upon losing its flight, it earned fins to swim.

"So may man have, in giving up a more active lifestyle, inherited a more cerebral one? How diverse is man right now... and how more diverse shall he become? Perhaps we all contain the critical genome that makes one a 'Mutant.' Maybe we were lucky in the moment of conception, lucky enough to not have that genome triggered. Or possibly we are all made of exactly the same stuff as Homo Superior. Maybe we ourselves *are* Homo Superior, and like the elephants species with too much fur, or a short trunk or the wrong sized ears, our kind shall breed into something new, rather than die out, in a fate similar to that of the Neanderthal men of long ago.

"How many steps away are any of us to the point where we are no longer Homo Sapiens, and become Homo Superior? Perhaps our answer lies not in highlighting the differences of 'sapiens' and 'superiors'...

---

"But in looking into our similarities," finished Logan, letting the newspaper fall between his fingers. He glanced to the girl sitting cross legged on the bed in the centre of the room, scribbling down in a booklet, "So that was ... 'From Sapien to Superior', by Senator Kelly. Miraculous turn around." He dropped the paper on the bed, shaking his head.

The girl tipped her head aside, looking to the headlining article in the Editorial of the paper that lay exposed on the bed. She frowned at it. "People have no idea," she said softly, "That he's gone. You'd think they could tell or somethin'."

Wolverine looked back at her, a steady firmness in his lips, "People only see what they want to see."

The girl rolled her eyes and sighed, "Yeah maybe."

He couldn't help but smile a little. She had that effect on him, making him smile when he was supposed to be a tough mother on an (often-borrowed) motorcycle. It was rather embarrassing, really. He didn't even realise until too late that this routine had begun. She'd sat in his room doing homework while he was gone, because it was the only quiet place where she could be alone. The dormitories were fit to burst with other kids. Somehow he knew why she occasionally chose not to be amongst them.

Kid. She didn't look like a kid. In those dark eyes resounded a soul that had a pain that echoed within him. He could see in her eyes a desperate longing. It killed him to see that in her. He understood it, although why so well, he wasn't sure. He felt like a miserable bastard however, being the inverted man. She ached for contact so badly it broke her soul. And he, with his rugged exterior and gruff nature, actively shunned it. He didn't want it; she couldn't have it.

Ah crap, Logan, he thought, the world just sucks.

His melancholy haze lifted as he glanced up, catching her repositioning herself onto her stomach, her legs free to swing back and forth in the air behind her, the pen she was using wedged in her teeth like a cigar. He frowned with a smile.

"Rogue... what are you doing?"

She blinked at him, smiling incredulously, "Bein' girly."

"Oh," he shrugged and nodded, "Fair enough."

It was a silent shock to walk into his room after his sabbatical at the abandoned military base to find the young girl settled at his desk, quietly working away. Even more disturbing was the warm rush of relief and affection that went through him as he realised whom it was. That cherubic face would nudge a smile from him again, and he felt like hiding and berating himself in the Danger Room for a while (oh how he adored the Danger Room). Of course, he just smiled and said 'Hi honey, I'm home', and disturbed himself even more in how nice it felt saying that. Rogue had turned, grin lighting up her face and she ran to him, hugging him tightly.

"Logan!" she cried, "How was it? Did you learn anythin'? Cyclops is so gonna kill you for takin' his bike!"

He gave a hint of a smile and lifted his hands up to calm the babbling girl, "It sucked, I learnt jack, and Cyclops can kiss my ass for all I care," he said.

She rolled her eyes, sinking down onto the bed, "It's been so borin' without you here."

"Yeah," he said, rather as a statement that a question, "Um - why are you in here?"

Uncertainty splashed onto her face and she glanced around herself, "Oh shoot, I hope you don't mind... it's just the study hall is always so full and everyone's just bein' loud annoyin' jerks in the dorm all the time-"

He smiled again, throwing his leather jacket down onto the bed beside her, "It's okay."

That had been the beginning of it. Since that day she took the liberty of taking solace in his room every afternoon to do her homework. He'd barely noticed it as a beginning, but as time went on its significance grew. This girl was growing on him more than she already had. And seeing as that was enough to have him risk his neck for her repeatedly, this 'more'ness was damn nigh worrying. He twitched, looking to her scratching away with a pen at her notebook. Curiosity niggled within him.

"What are you writing?"

She glanced up, fear suddenly in her eyes, "Um... nothin' it's just- poem for school."

Poetry. He hated the stuff. He angled his head to look at the words, but shaking gloved hands pulled the booklet away, a blush rising in her cheeks. Part of him felt a slow embarrassment, realising it probably had something to do with him. Another part that rebelled increased his heart rate, made him feel a little silly.

"You don't have to show it to me if you don't want to," he drawled, shrugging and looking to the wall across from him, "It's up to you."

Her eyes widened a little, and she glanced aside, dipping her head a little in embarrassment. She looked to her book that was cradled against her chest.

"I just - I'm still workin' on it... I'm not very good with words."

He nodded, pursing his lips thinly, "Has it got Latin in it?"

She glared at him, "Huh?"

"Some poets, they put Latin in their stuff," he said, leaning to her just slightly, "So they feel better about themselves cause they think Latin is something special and hifalutin'."

Her face fell, shoulders shrugging, her lips shuddering as she said, "It has Latin in it."

He gave a sidewards twitch of his head. Damn it all he felt like a real asshole now, "Latin is okay."

"Yeah well..." she looked away, blushing.

He gave a slight smile, "You going to read it to me or not?"

She smiled with that disbelief in her eyes, "You wanna hear it?"

"As long as it isn't mushy stuff," he said, propping his arms on firmly set apart legs, his arms rippling; exposed from the simple grey t-shirt he wore. He felt a slight hotness run over him as Rogue briefly glanced at them, her eyes fixed on his hands running over each other, rubbing the knuckles. He did that sometimes. They itched, as scarred skin was wont to do.

"Um," she blinked, looking down, "It's um... the title is Latin... I call it - Noli Me Tangere."

The words struck him. Touch me not...

She cleared her throat, tilting her head and pulling a lock of platinum hair behind her ear, "Um... Noli Me Tangere…"

Alone in my ability,
Yearning in my heart.
Lost all my faith in things.
Few knew or understood.
Father cries for nine one one.
Mother wails for calm.
I'm the one there shaking.
The boy the one there nearly gone.
All I see are the footfalls I make.
The damning sound of heel on ground.
And the world moved me along, drifting and
shattering, soft and cold.

"He came and threw back the isolation," she gave a slow blink, her voice wavering slightly as her hands shook.

Destroyed the fear with a withered smile.
All along my mind knows, though...
Noli Me Tangere, my friend,
Noli Me Tangere.

He couldn't say anything. Obviously the poem was... well amazing. It hit him like one of Storm's light jolts, and he struggled to keep his hands from shaking at the eloquent words.

"You wrote that..." he breathed softly.

Rogue blushed and shrugged, doodling on the edge of the pad, "I like English studies."

"I'll bet," he said, "That last bit-"

She looked away, her hand covering her face idly, "Yes."

He closed his mouth, the words he was about to utter dying there. All that he could feel was a growing swell of - well the only way he could describe it was the opposite of heartbreak. His heart, in pieces for so many years, had shifted a little closer to becoming whole again. She'd written that last bit about him?

"So, did it suck?"

He looked up at her from his hands, shock on his features, "No, not at all. I was just thinking - it was um - it was good."

"Oh," she nodded, pulling closed the book, "Good."

He nodded back at her, pursing his lips idly as his hazel eyes glanced around the room. From the corner of them, he could see her gather pens and pencils off his bedspread and into her pencil case. He tried to pretend that he wasn't watching her young, slowly curving body rise up off of the bed with the bounce of confidence he suddenly realised was delightful to encourage in her. However, closing his legs slightly and rolling his lips, it was clear to him that no matter how mutated he was, he was still a slave to his hormones. He looked to her as she pulled her bag onto her shoulder, a short smile on her face.

"I better go, Jubilee is expecting me at the workout area."

Logan frowned, "Who?"

Rogue moved from foot to foot with a small frown of her own, "You know, Jubilee... she's in the same class as me." Logan's face was blank. "Tch! Never mind," she said, her accent drawling, "She's really weird, I like her. Has a penchant for blowin' shit up, you'd like her too."

Logan blinked at her, "What?"

"Stuff, I meant stuff," blushed the young girl, "It's all your fault you know! Ever since Ah sucked you dry I been swearin' like a sailor. Even if Jean thinks it's all worn off. Ah think I jus' learned to control it some. Anyway - what was I sayin'?"

Logan let a smile tinge his eyes but not shift his mouth, "Jubilee."

"Oh yeah... I think Bobby has a serious crush on her," Rogue mumbled, glancing out the window. Logan now smiled freely.

"I thought he had a crush on you."

Rogue rolled her eyes, "So did I. Oh well, I better go."

As she strode to the door, her gloved hand grabbed his and squeezed, a sweet smile on her features, "See ya round, Logan."

"Later," he called back at her as she disappeared out the door. He sighed, lying back on his bed. His stomach yawned a little.

His bed smelt of the strong scent of girl's deodorant and strawberries. Such a power in her movements, such energy in her gaze. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Get real Logan, he thought, she's probably young enough to be your daughter. His soul had always seemed to slip, slide and stagger wildly, his heart raging with anger at what he was, at what he should have been. Suddenly, like the calming hand of a matriarch against the edge of a rocking cradle, she calmed him. All it took was a wide look of her dark eyes, an upward twitch of her cupid-bow lips.

They probably tasted of strawberries too.

---

Just as she had predicted, the teenager was pissed. She clutched her notebook to her chest, her brows tilting up in contrition. The Eurasian simply shook her head, her short cropped hair bouncing a little as she did so, the thick smoky-rimmed sunglasses on her face shielding the large brown eyes that she knew to sweep up attractively. The full lips, gleaming with fruit-scented lip-gloss, twisted, a dark brow rising.

"Where the hell where you? No- no wait," A derisive grin grew on the young woman, "Havin' some quality time with the Wolfman."

Rogue frowned, "His name is Wolverine - wolverines aren't dogs at all."

"Sure, they're weasels," snickered Jubilee, shifting in a bright yellow fuzzy jacket, "You're late, and we're never going to get time on the treadmills now. No playing 'Romy and Michelle' today."

Rogue rolled her eyes, smiling, "Well that's okay."

"No way," said Jubilee, pulling Rogue along, "If Crysta hogs that machine one more time I'm going to zap her ass so hard she'll be spitting sparklies for a week."

Rogue sniggered, "You're nuts."

"Thanks!"

---

Jean Grey sighed at the wall of televisions, shaking her head darkly. Sometimes she hated this job, watching the television stations to keep a tab on the events in the city with Professor Xavier by her side. Not that she minded time with Xavier (that was always beneficial); she just hated the level of journalism that seemed to exist. Sensationalist in nature, the reporters were sniveling and like vultures wheeling arcs in the air, just waiting for the next big bang to happen. It made her sick. What made her even sicker was that lately, more and more, the Mutants were that very next big bang. She'd seen her face on television a few times now, and not for her doctoral efforts.

Today, the scream of fear and object of many flashy clip-art images pasted behind dour looking scientists, was the recent 'Genome Race.' Yes... the tempest of wildly clinking test-tubes and number-crunching computers easily out-did the almost archaic mechanical efforts that men put forward to send themselves to the moon. This... this was far more dangerous than anything that could have possibly have come of the Space Race. A dull looking sheep was often flashed upon the screen, and it stirred worry in Jean's stomach.

A man on the screen excitedly (but also with a tint of menace) blathered on about how the little kinks that had occurred in the first ever cloning of a mammal, (like premature aging and decaying systems) had finally been ironed out. There was no holding back now, as it seemed the science of cloning had gotten to its feet. With the specialists of the world in the final stages of mapping the human genome (with much rushing and competition, thus its status as a race), apparently the newscaster decided that this meant certain disaster. Jean wished that she could, with all certainty and security, disagree.

With a cold clench of anxiety in her throat, she knew that in all honesty - she could not.

Turning from the screens, she muted their volumes with a mental nudge whilst walking over to her now cold coffee and taking a swift sip. "There is such a thing as too much television, Professor..."

Professor Xavier sat at the briefing table; hands folded together, lips drawn in a line. He had been watching the news with her, and the feathery touch of his mind at hers told him all he needed to know of her concerns.

He smiled, "Perhaps I should just go spend some time in Cerebro..."

"I think that'd be preferable. My eyes are turning to squares."

The professor wheeled himself over to his own coffee, taking a sip. "I've only had the younger students today - tell me - how is Jubilee fairing?"

Aaah... Jubilee. She'd just had her 18th birthday and had gotten herself totally smashed beyond reproach on vodka. Lord knows *where* she got it from, but then again the girl had lived in the muck of the alleys surrounding the city malls, and had supported herself via the art of shoplifting. She could barely be surprised if the girl had lifted it from the school's well-stocked alcohol cabinet.

Jean Grey shrugged, "Well, I think she regrets last weekend... I hope. Somehow I think it'll just wear off as she forgets about it and she'll be smuggling herself to Lily's Tavern on a regular basis."

"Hmmm." Xavier placed down his mug, worry etched in his brow, "She is essentially a responsible young woman, she just has a need to assert her own independence. It's something she's nurtured, it's kept her alive and it makes her who she is."

Jean sighed again, weariness splashed on her elegant high-boned features, "I know, I know. I swear, that girl has given me more grey hairs than I care to think about, and I have three long years to go."

Xavier gave a twitch of a smile, "Now you know how I felt, looking over you and Scott those years ago."

This caused Jean to smile, nodding, "Point taken."

"Is Logan adjusting to his new duties well enough?"

Jean rolled her eyes, "Yeah, but... oh man, he and Scott. I'm so sick of seeing those two prance about like two prize bulls on show..."

Xavier frowned, "Really? I hadn't sensed anything too adrift in him."

Jean gave a light snort, "Are you kidding? I'm worried there's gonna be bloodshed the next time!"

Xavier just smiled knowingly, "Perhaps you're just mistaking boyish banter for something more serious?"

Jean sighed, hanging her head back wearily. "Maybe... All I know is that it's driving me insane!"

Professor Xavier glanced to the doorway, his face looking suddenly worried. Jean knew what this meant, someone was coming, and they weren't happy at all. She turned to the door just in time to see it swing open wildly, the face of her lover, Scott, wildly concerned.

"The news - look," he said, racing in and over to a television screen, flicking the channel and turning the volume up. Jean's heart seized, and she could see Xavier's face grow hard as the events on the television flashed before them. The high-grade military installation that guarded Magneto whirled on the screen, shadows of other helicopters buzzing over the scene like bees around a hive, the little figures on the ground racing about the place, blasting open walls, ripping apart bodies and dominating any battle that presented itself. Mutants, about ten of them, swarmed the complex.

"Cyclops - gather a team. Take Wolverine, Storm and Jean."

Cyclops nodded, "Yes sir. Uh, that new guy that turned up about a month ago, the hairy brainiac-"

Jean frowned, "Beast?"

"Yeah," said Scott, "He's pretty strong, and he's old enough-"

"Yes, take him too," said Xavier. "Take care."

"We always do," Jean smiled grimly as Scott nodded determinedly, charging out the door.

"Watch Wolverine," he said, "You know his rages, and I don't think he'll be too content controlling them if you have to face Magneto."

"Scott'll have him on a leash!" called back Jean from the hallway.

Xavier cocked a brow. He knew that Wolverine would just rip it off and spit in Scott's face. Xavier knew all too well the effect the encounter with Magneto had had on young Logan. However old Logan's body was, his mind felt strangely young to Xavier, and he knew this also frustrated Logan. Here was a man who looked as a man, talked as a man, yet he had barely a grasp of life to fuel him. To compound this, the control he had over his own behaviours was shaky at best. His relationship with Rogue had quite a positive effect on him, but due to the troubles with Magneto, it had also left him deep scars. He could sense a lot of guilt and blame that Logan directed on himself. Indeed, it seemed to be a life goal of Logan that Rogue came to no harm. Xavier knew too well that Magneto had seen Logan's devotion, had toyed with it, thrown it to the winds and shown that against a man of magnetism, a man of metal was useless. The effects of this on Logan's mind were rather worrying.

Xavier was sure that's why the young man had been absent in Alkali for so long.

The Professor rubbed his chin, feeling for Wolverine in the building. He felt the concentration that the burly man often let envelope him during a stiff workout, but there was something else, something battling within him. Arousal? The school was full of girls of different ages, and a few rather attractive young women. Who could he be- it suddenly became clear. Ah... thus the battling. He couldn't help but be a little relieved when the arousal was quickly laid to rest - Cyclops had reached him, to take him on the mission.

He would have to have a talk to Wolverine later. Very carefully, very tactfully.

Jubilee shook her head as her legs pumped away on the stair machine, her brown eyes widening.

"Oh my GOD! You're kidding!"

Rogue shook her head, regret ringing in her similarly brown orbs, "No. He was in a coma for three weeks."

"Wow," said Jubilee, still shaking her head, her voice filled with awe, "You must be a great kisser."

Rogue frowned softly at her, "I don' know, it was my first kiss."

"Well sure," Jubilee grinned, "You still put him in a coma!"

Rogue let herself smile a moment, but the dull reality of the moment soaked up the merriment, the girlish moments of arousal and romantic thoughts dying in her. Damn. She could still remember the touch of the lips. Wet. Silky. Strangely enough, the moment she realised she could never have that again, she wasn't upset. Only numb... very numb. Just distancing herself from the world was all she cared about.

At least until she walked into that hellhole those hicks called a bar in the backwaters of Canada. In fact a lot of things changed when she walked in there.

He had been gripping the mesh of the fighting cage, facing neither the judge, nor the opponent a couple of bouncers dragged away. He sipped at a tumbler of whiskey, his muscles rippling in the dingy light, glowing flits of moths circling it desperately. All she could do was step forward, closer, to make sure that what she was seeing was real. He wasn't like the boy that she kissed. He was feral, wild, aggressively masculine, not so much in his build but in the machismo he oozed. Some idiot stepped into the ring, and her heart skipped a beat as he turned around, his face moving into the light. God... he had intense eyes of a hazel hue, filled with a rage that fascinated her even as it terrified her. In that cage he went wild, thumping the man unconscious, his teeth clenched, his lovely lips thinning in derisive glee. He enjoyed the pain he inflicted. Even though she could tell he was safe in that cage, that he could do no wrong... she was frightened for him.

The next moment of change was one she'd never forget. Later at the bar, she'd met those eyes again. Indeed, knowing what was under the layers of flannel shirt and heavy leather jacket, knowing the anger that flowed within him, she couldn't drag her eyes away from him. He was quiet, staunch, withdrawn. A feeling of familiarity washed over her, so crazy. The glint of a troublemaker's blade caught her eye, and when she jumped up, her voice screaming out before she could think of what she was saying, his own gleaming slivers of metal burst from his fists, and her body convulsed a little. She wasn't sure if it was fear, disgust or fascination, but the relief that swept over her was real when she realised that he was deformed like her.

Oddly, it never left her. She glanced over to her friend whose thick smoky-rimmed shades were slipped up into her scruffy short black hair, the grey bike-pants and mid-riff top accentuating her young figure nicely. Rogue frowned. Jubilee was a lot more balanced in her figure that she was, much more voluptuous. Her shoulders were wide, her hips equally so. When Rogue looked to her own frame, she saw wide hips, but slightly narrower shoulders. Well - maybe she was just seeing things in a bad way. The sight of herself in the same grey sports clothes kinda made her feel silly, maybe because she wasn't totally used to being so obviously feminine yet. She felt like she was too skinny though. Yeah... needed more muscle maybe. Then again, so many of the X-men's populace were so lithe and stunning, it wasn't odd for a young recruit to feel scrawny. She doubted she could ever be so glamourous. She glanced down at herself again. The low cut of the singlet she wore made a party of her cleavage, her stomach rippled and moved as her bare legs powered away on the step machine she was on. Yes... those sports pants were ridiculously short. Who designed these outfits - a hooker?!

"Why you gone so quiet?" asked Jubilee, her form bobbing up and down on the machine.

Rogue shrugged, smiling, "Jus' thinkin'."

She hadn't a chance to get back to thinking, as frantic whispers swept the large gym.

"Oh my God," came a hushed female voice from near Rogue, and turned out to be that of a girl on a nearby treadmill, "Wolverine's coming in! Let's be hoping he takes that shirt off huh?"

Jubilee glanced a the girl that had uttered the words, cocking a lip as she shook her head, "Shit, you'd think he was Richard Gere or something."

Rogue felt herself cocking her head and smirking, "Well he's cuter than Richard Gere."

Jubilee gave a sharp laugh, huffing and chuckling, "Man, I knew you were gonna say that!"

She smiled, "I's jus' bein' honest!"

Jubilee shook her head. "Maybe I should give you the zap in the ass, huh? Get you back to your senses."

"What?" asked Rogue frowning.

"He's like - 15 years older than you or something!"

"Actually," Rogue stopped herself as a heat of embarrassment swept over her, but the look on Jubilee's face prompted her to continue, "They have no idea how old he is. He's got this regenerative mutation so-"

"Oh my GOD!" laughed Jubilee suddenly, "You could be having a crush on a fucking 80 year old!"

A blush raged in Rogue's cheeks, and she looked away, "I don't have a crush on him, he's just a friend."

"Yeah whatever," smirked Jubilee, "Oh here he coooomes!"

The gym was silent as the mass of girls in similar sports clothes gazed longingly to the muscular man who strode in determinedly. It was odd. He rarely came when anyone else was in there, but Rogue figured the Danger Room - his preferred method of work out - was busy at the time. She watched him keenly as he walked to a weight bench near the corner, only a few metres from Rogue's machine, dropping a small sports bag on the ground and digging out some water. He took a swig, and turned to face the rest of the room.

About fifteen girls, eyes previously locked on him, gasped and looked away, hiding their faces behind hands, or laughing and giggling with their friends. All except Rogue. She smiled, and with a sweetness that defied the rough look of his features, he smiled back. A collective coo fell through the female presence, and he frowned suddenly, looking away.

Jubilee rose a brow with a slow leer. "Hey, lucky gippy," she whispered, "He checked you out!"

Rogue rolled her eyes, "He did not! We're friends stupid! He was just sayin' hello without talkin'!"

Jubilee shrugged and grinned, looking away.

Rogue felt a blush in her cheeks again, the tingly burning driving her crazy. What the hell was even the point of all this? It was painfully futile to her, differences in age and difficulties in skin considered. She looked to the speed meter on her machine, her eyes locked to it. She stayed that way for quite some time, powering away, and for a moment, she could almost pretend she didn't smell his distinctive spicy sweet cologne that probably went out of fashion years ago, but still sent her heart thumping all the same.

A soft collective gasp fell across the room, and she glanced up. Her mouth suddenly went dry, and she fought to stifle a laugh.

Wolverine sat at the bench, shirt half over his head. As the gasp finished he pulled it down again, glaring at the girls like they were insane. Rogue couldn't hold it in anymore, it was all so ridiculous. A snigger slipped, and the glare that was previously directed to the rest of the room landed dead on her. It was just the thing to send her into a light, spirited tinkle of a laugh that brought a fiery red blush to the older man's cheeks.

"I'm - oh God I'm sorry, Logan," she chuckled, "You can keep strippin' if ya like."

He gave a twist of an irritated smile and pulled the t-shirt down, his words coming out short and cold, but somehow jovial at the same time, "That's okay, I think I'll go see if the Danger Room is empty yet."

She grinned freely, pumping the stair-machine with a wide sway of her hips, letting the giddy feeling in her heart guide her. His eyes stayed on hers for a good moment, amusement in them as he packed his things.

"Wolverine!"

Rogue glanced to the door of the gym, the leather-suited figure of Cyclops bursting in with Jean close behind. Something was up. The duo ran up to Wolverine, and she fought not to notice Wolverine giving a provocative smile to Jean behind Scott. She pursed her lips, glancing down to her feminine young body with dissatisfaction. She glanced up again, seeing Wolverine look suddenly angry. She leant forward, straining to hear.

"You're crazy right?" Wolverine said, "Facing Magneto without Rogue?"

Cyclops glared at him, "Rogue has training to do. She's nowhere near ready to face-"

"She was ready enough before," the burly shorter man growled, "What makes it so different now."

"You know what happened the last time," Jean said.

Rogue frowned, the word 'Magneto' stirring a slight devastation within her. She didn't want to think about him, or that time in Manhattan. It brought about hellish memories, not hers, someone else's. It cut her deeply, and seeing that side of the villain they sought out was frightening. Many wondered if she felt sorry for him in light of his past. She couldn't. She'd seen deep into him, and she knew how cracked his soul was. He was misguided, and she would never make the mistake of buying into the blind. Slipping off the stair machine, she strode over arguing group.

"Hey," she said, "Don't you think I should be in on this too?"

Cyclops sighed roughly, Wolverine glancing to her momentarily.

"You know she's the only one that can stop him," Logan said, "That can counter his powers. I don't even know the damned point of sending me along, he's just gonna stick me to the wall like a fucking fridge magnet."

"What a delightful picture," smiled Rogue.

Wolverine glared at her. He didn't remember her being this saucy all those months ago when they met. He almost liked it.

"We're skirting the issue here," said Cyclops, "We gotta MOVE Logan, it's an emergency for crissakes!"

"What's going on?"

Cyclops spun about at the sound of the older wiser voice, pointing at Wolverine, "He's insisting Rogue come along for this mission."

The wheel-chaired form of Xavier sat in the doorway to the gym, a disturbed look settling on his older features.

"Have you got a better idea?" cried Wolverine, "What use is muscle against a guy that can throw cars around like yesterday's carton of milk?!"

Rogue felt the probing gaze of Professor Xavier fall on her. It was rather disturbing; she could feel him riffling about in her mind. She didn't think anyone else could do that. She wasn't sure why, she felt a close link with this man. It was possibly something left over from her drain of Magneto.

"Rogue can go with you on the sole condition that one of you be by her side at all times."

"Awww..."

The disappointed sigh fell through the small crowd of girls who were hoping for a slanging-match between Cyclops and Wolverine. For some reason it was unbelievably entertaining. Wolverine was always the bigger wanker, and if he won, it was spectacular.

Xavier gave the girls a stern smile and directed himself around, wheeling out of the room. Cyclops sighed, propping his hands on his hips.

"Okay - Jean - you get her suited up."

Rogue's eyes lit up, "I get a suit?!"

Wolverine curled his lips with an unimpressed scowl. "They suck."

---

Wolverine paced, gripping the glove in his hand, fists clenched, his blades flinging in and out tetchily. He hated to think about how long they'd been waiting in the room for the girls to come back from the fitting room. Heaps of people could have died by now and they'd been waiting about ten minutes. What was the deal? Grab the suit, let the machiney thing do it's thing, get out! He punched his unbladed fist into a bladed hand, his teeth gritting. Cyclops looked at him steadily, his face unreadable behind the eye-gear he always wore. Pansy. Wolverine grunted at him shortly, pushing out the other blades and ringing them against the ones on his other hand.

"Got a problem?"

"No," Cyclops shook his head, "I just wish you'd quit pacing."

Wolverine ducked his head around the doorway, sliding his blades back into his arms for another annoying time, "What's taking her so long?"

Cyclops shrugged, "The girl's suits take longer to fit. All those curves and stuff to account for."

Wolverine felt his claws spring out, and he fought the blush on his face, "Uhuh."

Cyclops smirked. "Mind to the mission, mister."

He growled at the smug visor-clad man across from him. Damn. This was crazy, he certainly felt crazy. He hadn't foreseen her getting suited up. What was he even worrying about? She wore tight clothes all the time, he was used to it. Moreover, he wanted to get out of here and to the fighting. The idea of getting that bastard Magneto for what he'd done was one he couldn't keep out of his head, he never could. He'd nearly killed the sweetest little soul he'd ever known. The prick would pay.

"Ah'm ready..."

The voice was tremulous, accent thick from nerves. He swung around, and nearly choked. Dear GOD.

Rogue smiled nervously, running her hands over the black leather, the yellow and green cording standing out against the dark suit. Shit it was tight... Her hair tumbled down around her, white streaks standing out like a beacon, hands resting on curving hips which ran down to shapely thighs that sections of ribbed vinyl brought up oh so nicely. Thick-soled chunky heeled boots shod her feet, her neckline a low-zipped visage similar to Jean-Grey and Storm's but seeming all the more deadly. Unlike her comrades, her hands were bare. Wolverine tensed at the sight of the silky pristine skin, the sweet little long-nailed hands so innocent looking to the unbeknownst.

He cleared his throat, looking away. Crap, he'd been gawking. A slow grin fell across the face of the younger woman, and she practically slinked across the room over to Cyclops. She folded her arms, cocking a brow.

"Rogue, reporting for duty sir," she said, tongue firmly in cheek. Cyclops looked to Jean-Grey.

"I thought those shared personality traits were supposed to fade."

Jean Grey grinned and shrugged, "They were supposed to."

Rogue sighed, clapping her hands together, "Well - shall we go save some lives or are we gonna watch Logan starin' at my ass all day?"

Logan spun about, facing away from the girl and blushing madly. Ho shit. Not only had she noticed, she was being embarrassing about it. This girl was amazing. He clenched his teeth, turning about and stalking out towards the Blackbird's hanger.

"Let's stop yakkin' and get to it, huh?"

He heard the other X-Men's footfalls behind him as he went swiftly down the corridors, glaring ahead. He was angry now, how dare she do that to him? He felt a familiar scent waft closer, and he grit his teeth, looking away from where it came from.

"Logan..."

He didn't look at her. He didn't even want to.

"Logan," she hissed quietly, "I'm sorry!"

He kept walking.

"God damnit, Logan, will you stop sulking an' look at me?"

He flicked a glare at her, lips taught. She sighed, putting a hand to her forehead.

"I'm sorry, I really am."

"You usually like to make your friends look like complete dicks in front of other people?" he grunted.

She rolled her eyes, "Well you were doin' fine enough a' job a' that yerself!"

He felt a blush burn him again and he flared his nostrils angrily. How dare she smell so good?

"Look, I meant it, I'm sorry. I'm just not used to - well -lookin' like this. I guess I got cocky."

Logan turned the corner and waited for the large double sliding doors of the Blackbird's hanger to open. He clenched his jaw in response, turning his hazel eyes towards her.

"You did get cocky."

She looked down, a frown on her face.

"If I looked that good, I'd get cocky too."

Suddenly, the frown twitched to the smallest of smiles. She glanced up, her cheeks glowing in a healthy blush, "Ah look good?"

He felt the corners of his mouth shift upwards so slightly, and he nodded, just as minutely. The doors slid open at the bequest of Cyclops, and they strode in. He smelt a new body in the room, and turning he saw the blue-grey tinged face of the furry young Mr. McCoy, more commonly referred to as Beast. He cocked a brow at him. The bastard was huge. He wasn't sure how much leather they needed to cover his 7-ft frame, but it must have been a hell of a lot of it. The young man approached the group, brutish and menacing in appearance. He stopped in front of Cyclops, nodding his head and fiddling with clawed hands nervously.

"I'm here," he said, his voice light yet deep, the accent clear learned American if Wolverine had ever heard it.

"Hi, Beast," Cyclops smiled, patting the guy on the shoulder, "You ready to put your years of training to good use?"

"Absolutely," smiled Beast.

"Great - get in! OH wait - Beast," Cyclops pulled Beast back, tagging Rogue who stood nearby, "This is Rogue, she'll be with us on this mission."

"Ah," Beast said, "You are in the lower grades, if I recall correctly."

"Not too low, I start college in two months," said Rogue, noticing the furry hand reaching out to clasp hers in greeting, "You don't wanna do that, sugar, trust me."

Wolverine glared at Jean, mouthing "Sugar?"

Jean grinned and shrugged, "Let's go!"

---

From the front window of the Blackbird, the flickering orange glow of explosions could be seen reaching up from the ground, the frantic voices of those fighting filtering through the police radio pickup in the cockpit. Wolverine glanced back, his muscles feeling tight, his stomach jumping in anxiety at the sight he saw. Rogue leant against the wall, her lips a little pale, her brows tilted up. He tried to get out of his seat, but the firm hand of Jean on his shoulder stopped him.

"The g-force of us stopping will make a Logan-type pizza on the roof," she said. He sighed restlessly.

"Rogue - are you okay?"

She looked back at him, swallowing, "Ah'm fine! Jus' a little air-sick."

"There's a sick-bag in the compartment in the back of the chair in front of you," said Storm, looking back.

"Ah hate flyin'," she mumbled, the crisp sound of thick waterproofed paper being unfolded.

"We're there," Cyclops said, "You might wanna look out the window while we land Rogue, it gets a little icky."

"Urk!"

Wolverine glared back at her, his eyes wide, hands clenching the seat, "Rogue!"

"Guh," she coughed some, her face hidden in the bag, "Oh God... Logan, calm down... Jesus Christ you'd think you were my mother!"

Logan blinked at her, then let a brow slide up in ire, "Well, if I were your mother you'd be over my knee for speaking to me like that." He glared at Cyclops who suddenly let loose a snigger.

Storm smirked a little, shaking her head, "You'll have to get used to the Blackbird, Rogue, if you are to accompany us on missions in the future."

She swallowed, looking up from the bag with dimples of discomfort in her brow, "Can't I just walk?"

Cyclops grinned, closing off the systems, "Come on - we've got some fighting to do."

The scene was a tempest of flames, the screams of men and women mingling with the roar of weapons echoing against the battered buildings that made up the military complex. The complex sat in the centre of towering razor-wired walls, which they'd landed inside of, and the lawn quad was now the stage of a rather fierce battle. The X-Men filed out of the distanced craft, Cyclops striding ahead with a determined set in his lips.

"We're going in. Rogue - stay by Wolverine. Storm, you keep an eye on them in case Magneto shows up. We should stop the intruders before it gets that far."

The group ran on towards the battleground, and Rogue felt a clashing of emotions inside of her. Her lips trembled as Wolverine gripped her hand and dragged her along. He was stronger than he realised, but the hold was warming.

"Stay close," he growled, "I may have to fight some people off."

"Ah got these," she said darkly, lifting her bare hands. He lifted a brow and grit his teeth.

"I don't want you using it unless you have to, Rogue. The last thing you need is more jerks in your head!"

"Ah dunno," she shrugged, "I kinda like you rattlin' round in there."

She saw the older man shake his head, striding headlong. Cyclops fiddled with the side of his visor, sending out blasts towards figures floating in the air, radiating bands of energy. Rogue felt the blast of hot air as more flames shot up from the building, her heart thumping wildly.

"This is a God-damn war zone!" Wolverine barked out to Cyclops.

Cyclops hadn't the opportunity to respond as he blasted at offending mutant bodies. A strange feeling settled on Rogue as she watched her comrades plunge themselves into battle. Humans ran back and forth, shooting weaponry, other figures flipping, contorting, grasping and bending nature to their will, overpowering with a thought. It seemed to only serve as a massacre, a great destruction of human lives for the joy of it alone. It would make sense, for what the X-Men treasured, they would fight for. And there were plenty of mutants around to kill people, and few around to stop them. Fear was the thing that tickled the young girl's stomach, and she trailed after Logan, her eyes fixed on him always. A sudden cool breeze brushed her cheek, and she glanced upwards, heart frozen in caution - someone was coming. A dark lilting shape moved through the flickering smoke-dappled air above them, and Rogue crouched, her muscles tight and prepared.

"Logan," she cried over the noise, "Look out!"

Wolverine glanced up, hunching, claws extending with a metallic clink. The curved form of a woman floated down swiftly, heeled boots lashing. A metal-tipped toe clipped Logan in the jaw, and he staggered, crouching over and nursing a bruised jaw only momentarily before sweeping back up with a springing leap and smashing the woman in the face with an unclawed fist. She hated being useless, watching her friend do all the fighting. Oddly, it was like one of those bad westerns where the guys were punching each other silly and the woman stood by with a whiskey bottle, ready to smash it over the villain's head if she had the chance.

The woman, body sleek in tight pleather (probably to aid her flight) leapt and kicked. Wolverine ducked with a grunt, grabbing the leg whilst it was over him and throwing the woman over his head. She landed on the ground with an 'ooph', but her other leg clamped against him from the other side, sandwiching him between her limbs. With a flip of her body she sent him over on his head, his body crumpling to the ground only a moment. The woman rolled to her feet, her soft blonde hair tumbling around her shoulders, her large dark eyes twinkling in the devastation around her. Logan was still on the ground, his movements slow. He pulled himself to his feet groggily, the gnashing leer of effort on his haggard features.

"Logan!"

"I'm okay!" he shouted, ducking as the woman sent another smashing punch towards him, "This bitch is strong."

"Thank you," the woman said before sending a firm smack into Wolverine's face. His body flew backwards untold metres into a discarded burning tank nearby, slumping onto the ground.

She tilted her head as she stalked before him, a fascinated smile on her features, "You must be Wolverine. Magneto told me you would be a difficult adversary."

Wolverine slowly propped himself up from the ground, gritting his teeth as his body worked at healing itself, "I'd hate to disappoint."

"Oh, no fear," cooed the woman, crouching before him and gearing for his next assault. With a grunt of impatience she sent a punch to his gut, which he deflected, but in blocking her arm he created an opening. She sent her fist slamming into his stomach, and as he bent over she grabbed at his neck, lifting him up in the air and pinning him against the wall of an abandoned tank.

His hand shot out, catching hers, gripping her as she gripped him, the man's eyes bulging as the woman squeezed tighter. He kicked at her, and she laughed, pressing her body down over his, somehow smothering him, his hands pinned against his chest and crushed in her iron grip.

Rogue could see he was stuck. She could see this woman was stronger than he was, and something in her broke as a look of pure desperation flitted across Logan's face.

Marie sprang over a discarded body, her feet pounding at the earth of the instillation's once well-kept gardens, the slowly crumpling figure of her closest companion losing the battle against the steely woman in front of him. Her hands trembled as she leapt upon the woman, grabbing her face. The woman's neck snapped back, her eyes flinging open as the poison touch began to drain her. Flesh. It was so odd to feel it. So soft, supple. It was the sleek perfect skin of a woman, and it only took a tiny moment before it began to ripple with the straining of veins that fought to keep the essence of life within them.

"No," Wolverine struggled, trying to get up, "NO! Marie!"

She could see the hand of the woman still clenched around Wolverine's throat, holding on with a deadly determination.

"Let GO OF HIM!" she growled, her eyes spilling with tortured tears.

The woman leered, looking back to Rogue, her eyes fluttering weakly, "I shall kill him, as you kill me," she said, "The longer you hold onto me, the sooner he dies."

Wolverine grunted, his fingers scraping franticly at the hand that clamped onto his throat, his eyes glazing over, the only action he could play a slow but desperate shake of his head as he gazed at Rogue through dying eyes. Tears welled in the young woman's eyelids, an angry sob leaving her, her hands grabbing at the woman's face and yanking with all her might. Her hands slipped at the woman's iron strength, and Marie tumbled backwards, the hard earth pounding her body as she rolled. The super-strength endowed woman staggered back at the suddenly strong tug, her teeth gritting at the blood that lined her cheeks from Rogue's angry fingernails.

Logan's unconscious body slipped onto its side, slow heavy breaths moving the leather-clad ribcage.

Rogue hadn't time to watch him for long as the long legged villainess took weak steps towards her, her dark eyes flashing with a deathly rage.

"Trying to steal my soul, little girl?" the woman said, "How interesting. You must be the one he talks about all the time. The one that haunts him."

Rogue grit her teeth, clutching her head as she felt the cold painful claws of the woman's mind seep into hers, dank, distorted thoughts haunting her own. A wracking sob broke from her as she shook her head at the woman.

"You're talkin' about him - about Erik?"

Her adversary tilted her head and smiled, "Aah, you speak of him as if you were familiar with him." The woman paced gracefully, her strength slowly seeping back into her movements.

"Familiar is one word for it," Rogue said shortly, "When they're in your head."

The woman didn't look like she belonged here. She looked like she belonged on a cigarette packet from the nineteen-fifties, or more suitably selling cigarette packets from that era. It was then that she attempted to pace past Rogue, to Logan. Rogue shot a hand out, her eyes sharp and burning into the woman in front of her.

"No Carol," Rogue breathed darkly, "He ain't for you. I think you should go home. Home to your Momma."

'Carol' gnashed her teeth, her eyes flying open wide at the words from the girl, her gloved hands knotting into fists.

"You got that from my head? Hmm? Soaked it up like a sponge?" Carol stepped forward, perilously close to Rogue, her nose nearly tipping the younger girl she towered over by a few inches, "Well, little girl. As fascinating as this has been, I have a job to do. So you can move, and let me finish off the beast-man, or you can join him in death."

Rogue narrowed her eyes, her hands balling to fists, "If you think you're goin' anywhere NEAR Logan, you're fairly mistaken."

Carol tipped her head, "So be it."

Without any ceremony Carol surged forward, pummeling into Rogue, toppling her over and over on the ground, her hands pounding the little body underneath her. Great swaths of agony swept over the girl, her eyes blurring with fresh tears as strength untold tenderized her insides. She turned her head only slightly before having it slapped back in the other direction, catching a glimpse of a very unconscious Wolverine on the ground. Oh God, may he be okay.

She felt the cold hand that gripped her cheek, shrouded in pleather, safe from her, bruises sinking into her porcelain features.

She was going to die if she didn't move; she could feel it, in the mash of her muscles and skin that bled from the woman's blows. And if she died, Logan would be alone. Her heart thumped hard in her chest, the slow crawl of it's breaking sending a wrack of pain throughout her. A hand, bare, crept up so slowly to her face, so stealthily that the woman didn't see. Not until it was too late.

"AUGH!"

Rogue winced, tears streaming down her features, her hands grabbing the woman's face tight. The energy streamed into her, bursting through her veins. She felt the thoughts; fears, agony and hate spill into her mind as her skin soaked the woman up into her. She heard a gasp behind her, low, masculine, and she turned her head long enough to see Wolverine had come round. He couldn't move though... his legs lay useless, though he crawled forward slowly.

"No - stop!"

"Oh too late," grinned the woman, her voice barely a rasp, her body curled underneath Rogue's hands, "Isn't it little girl..." She still struggled with Rogue, her plastic-clad fingers wrapping around the soft delicate neck, "We'll see who wins the struggle... what survives... my strength or your poison..."

Rogue's mouth dropped open, her efforts to breath little more that guttural rasps. She looked to Logan helplessly.

"Fight her Kid!" he yelled, "KILL HER!"

Carol tilted her brows up, her lips curving in a tearful smile, "Such savage words spoken so - UNGH! TEnd-er-ly," she struggled with Marie's wriggling hands, both of them twisting uneasily in their death-lock, "You are his weakness. I think you will destroy him."

Anger flitted within her, and with a growl the girl crushed the face under her hands, tears running hot from her eyes, something within her snapping - she willed it. Oh she willed every single sap of energy from the bitch of a woman. Almost in tandem the silver slivers of Wolverine's claws burst through the top of Carol's chest, the hot sting of the woman's lifeblood splashing against Rogue's face. She felt the constant barrage of energy jolt finally within her, and fear grasped her.

Oh God. She'd ... she'd killed her.

Rogue sobbed, trying franticly to scramble away from the dead body that lay on top of her, pinning down her suddenly helpless body. She was trapped by death. Oh God...

"Get her away!" she cried, her voice wavering, "Get her away from me!"

Rogue shook violently at the heavy weight of the dead woman in her arms, and finally she kicked, crawling backwards, the limp weight rolling off her. She kicked away again, and glancing back caught the cold eyes of her deceased attacker.

All she could do was stare. It was wrong - so very very wrong. No - this woman, this gorgeous intoxicating woman had been FLYING and beating the SHIT out of her and now she was... oh God she was nothing now - something and now nothing, moving and now gone, forever.

Strangely, something sentimental in her cried out for losing something so dear to her.

Two strong hands gripped the shoulders of Carol, lifting her up into a pair of arms... Wolverine. The loping figure of her companion dragged the wrongly familial body off and dropkicked the now lifeless corpse onto a pile of bodies with a savage snarl.

All Rogue could see was her life. Her body buzzed uncomfortably, and she clutched her head, frantic whimpers coming from somewhere... it took her a minute to realise it was her. When she'd been looking at that body... she'd been Carolyn Danvers.

Fear broke within her, a mad scramble crashing through her brain. She rolled over, clawing up to her feet and glancing around herself madly.

"LOGAN!" A sob rose within her, wild fear rising, "LOGAN! Oh GOD where are ya?"

Large hands clutched her sides, deep hazel eyes connecting with hers as he swept her around from where he'd come from. OH GOD yes... sanity... calm there had to be some calm in there...

"I'm here - I was just -" He stopped, a chill ripping through him as he saw Marie's eyes. They were wide with fear, and worse, devastation. Complete and utter. He could feel her little body shaking, see her lips purse and shudder, her eyes lined with the red of tears. He wiped his gloves on his sides, ridding them of the blood before cradling her jaw, looking back into her eyes. "Hey, kid, talk to me - you okay?"

Another whimper lifted from her, hands clutching her skull, her heart crushed under the new weight that bombarded her, "L-Logan... Hohhh GOD...." She shook her head, pushing herself away from Logan and in the process falling to the ground. Her fingers dug at her skull, helplessness and torment wracking her. "Oh, GOD! Get her out of mah HEAD!"

Logan dragged her to her feet, hugging her tightly, "Shh shh shh... It's okay Marie... baby listen to me... Marie..."

She couldn't listen. His words bounced off her and she just - oh damn that agony, so much of it. She buried her head in Logan's chest, just praying damn it that the crashing panic in her head would just STOP. She knew it couldn't though, no no never could cause the second she DID she would be at peace and NEVER could she be at peace with the new animal in there - the beast the killer - oh GOD.

"Marie?" he asked.

"She - God no," She squinted, sobbing.

"Marie-"

"No," Marie clenched her teeth in determination, "Cah- Carol. Binary. Her code-name was Binary, and I killed her."

"Bullshit," He tilted her face up, staring directly into her eyes, so close she could feel his breath on her face, "I killed her. My claws through her chest."

An empty smile flitted on Rogue's face. "I was gone long before that, Wolverine."

"Marie?"

Rogue's expression wrinkled to fear and she cowered against him, hanging in his hold once more.

He shuddered, and clutching the limp body to him, he turned to survey the scene they'd somehow been knocked out of. He could see the black fluttering shape of Storm soaring high, her eyes flashing in the newly formed clouds around her. Cyclops blasted away near the entrance of the complex, Beast only now racing towards the power-box. Wolverine looked down to Rogue who hung in his arms, her eyes far off.

"Ya can't go in there like this," he said, "I'll take you back to the Blackbird."

"No!" Something burst through the chaos in Rogue's mind, and gripping the leather, she glared at him with everything. "No, Logan, I gotta go in there, help you guys, I'm the only one that can! You said!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!" she said, "Come on - Cyclops needs us!"

He nodded, grabbing her hand, pulling her forwards to the front entrance to the installation. As he ran, he could keenly hear her feet pounding the decimated lawn, her soft breaths rasping into the late afternoon air, and he held onto her hand, making sure she was behind him. He would occasionally give her a tight squeeze, to encourage her to fasten her pace, and he nearly let out a girly 'ow' at the grip she gave him back. For a moment he thought someone had knocked her away and taken her place, but glancing back, surely enough - it was her. He frowned at her only a moment, figuring she must have put all her weight on his hand by accidentally tripping or some such. He could hear Cyclops' voice calling out over the tumult now, and he skidded to a halt next to the fearless leader.

"Hi."

He knew that if he had the chance, Cyclops would have glared at him.

"Where they HELL where you? Ororo and I are doing all the damned work!"

"I was saving her ass!" Wolverine growled, thumbing towards a lost looking Rogue.

"I told you not to bring her," he said.

Wolverine felt a rage prickling under his skin and he grit his teeth, "She was by my side you jerk, *I* was the one attacked! She saved my Goddamned LIFE!"

Cyclops jumped forward, a blast bursting from his visor, "Fine. Go do your job before you get in the damned way!"

He grit his teeth at the younger man, grabbing Rogue's hand and pulling her forward, "Thanks, Bub!"

He crouched in the war zone, weaving between wrecked tanks and over-turned police cars, his eyes on the small shed that served as the installation power-box. Inside was the large black and blue shape of Hank McCoy, The Beast, his long fingers twiddling with various wires. He'd been instructed to take out the power and thusly automatically seal the doors. He grunted at him, poking the man in the shoulder.

"You not done yet?"

"This is a vastly superior security system developed by the government's leading scientists," said the young man, glancing at him only briefly. "Relieving it of its power without the proper clearance is a delicate operation."

"Ugh," grunted Wolverine again, "Right... yeah." With a 'chink' he unsheathed his claws, and gave a fierce swipe to the wires leading out of the generator Beast was gutting piece by piece. Sparks burst into the air, Wolverine letting out a yelp as a bolt of electricity sent him falling backwards onto his rear.

"That wasn't particularly wise," said Beast, a soft frown on his blue-grey face.

"No shit," growled Wolverine, "Power down!"

"Doors not necessarily automatically sealed," replied Beast.

Wolverine's lips tensed, his hands clutching the ground, his ears practically pricking. "Do you hear that?"

Rogue looked around herself, "Hear what?"

His eyes sparkled in caution, "Rumbling..."

"I don't hear-"

Sound stopped for the briefest of moments, eardrums almost bursting as a deafening wall of sound slammed Rogue back, Wolverine and Beast tumbling over near her.

She narrowed her eyes into the explosion as grit and rubble burst from the doorway to the complex, Cyclops taking a tumble at the blast. Rogue ran forward from the power-box, eyes out for Jean and Storm. In the sky the fluttering black and silver spectre of her friend swooped down to meet the white-clad figure standing untouched in the huge bite taken out of the building. Silver hair and tired old eyes looked back at the X-Men as they staggered to their feet, Cyclops rubbing his head gingerly. Rogue felt her feet moving fast, her heart thumping wildly. Rage was suddenly engulfing her at the sight of this man. She'd never examined her feelings towards the destructive twisted old soul that stood not twenty metres from her, she was always too angered, too pained. Tonight, Wolverine nearly slipped away from her again, and it was THIS man's fault. Around him hovered a few young Mutants, the dead Binary slumped over the shoulder of one of them. His eyes barely flickered at the sight of the dead Mutant, and he cast a steely gaze to the X-Men, looking more annoyed than anything.

"Rogue! Get BACK here!"

She glared at the old broken man, venom in her stance, her jaw clenching slowly. The world suddenly swept up around her as strong arms grabbed her, pulling her back and away, the spicy scent of the unfashionable cologne and the way those arms felt around her letting her know exactly who it was without even having to look.

Cyclops stepped forward, hands planted firmly on hips, standing between the gaping bite out of the building that used to be the front entrance, and the rest of the world. His lips were set hard, his voice level.

"What do you think you're doing, Magneto?"

Magneto gazed at him with a dour frown, the light sniggers of his surviving mutant comrades backing him.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he asked, "I'm leaving."

"We can't let you do that," Cyclops said. Storm angled down from the low-lying clouds, her cape fluttering around her as she approached Magneto with a menacing glow of her eyes. The wind whipped up at the rising of the woman's arms, her elegant gait threatening like the steady lope of a hungry wild cat. Jean-Grey wasn't far behind.

Magneto tipped his head as Storm drew close, a fascination in his features.

"Do you know what makes up much of the underground structure of this holding facility, Ms. Monroe?"

Storm glared at him, her face not moving an inch.

Magneto rose, the odd sight of an old man in white pyjama-like clothes floating into the air losing all comedic value at the shuddering energy that seemed to seize everything around them. Storm staggered back, the ground shaking, and she lifted her hands, forcing a gale at the man who didn't seem to budge an inch. She felt herself buckle, and looking to Cyclops she looked terrified.

"Jean! Give me a hand here!"

Jean ran forward, hands outstretched, her eyes fixed to Magneto. She fought to counteract his powers, her lips tense, hands quivering at the energy. Absurdly, Magneto flicked a hand, flinging the woman back against the ground. She could barely stand for the quaking, her eyes growing wide.

"Scott," she cried, "He's ripping up the installation from the inside out - we have to get out of here!"

He clenched his teeth, "Rogue can still-"

"LOOK at her Scott," she shouted, "Rogue can't do a thing!"

He glanced to the young girl hanging limply against Wolverine's frame, her eyes empty.

"We have to retreat!"

He gave an impatient sigh, meeting Ororo's frantic gaze. "RETREAT! Let's get to the Blackbird... fight this baby with some technology!"

Magneto still rose up into the air, now some way from the ground, his companions floating with him. There only seemed to be flying mutants on this mission. Perhaps the earth-bound ones had already escaped.

Rogue felt herself being bustled into the Blackbird, Wolverine's gloved hands always near hers. She barely registered the contact, or even where she was. The X-Men filed into the Blackbird, barking commands and suggestions to each other. All she could do was sit with a blank expression on her face, Wolverine strapping her into her seat with a paternal force that disturbed her somewhat. She felt those gloved hands on her face again, directing her lost gaze down.

"Marie, Marie, look at me."

She dragged her eyes down to meet his, his face twisted in worry and fear. It amused her somehow. This man... he was her saviour, her invincible saviour, and he was afraid.

"You feeling alright? You're not hurting anywhere?"

A curl of a distant smile curved her cupid-bow lips, "I'm fine." He saw her glance behind him.

"You know what happens when you don't wear your seatbelt, Logan..."

Cyclops glanced back from the front seat, "Wolverine - sit your ass down!"

Wolverine grit his teeth, glaring at Rogue, "Did that pussy-boy just swear at me?"

"I'd say so."

He sighed, and kissed the top of her head briefly before retreating to his seat, strapping himself in hastily as the Blackbird shook at the sudden developing G-force. He leant back in his chair, always glancing back to Marie, heart wrenching at the hollow gaze she cast at the wall next to her.

The ship around him bucked, shuddered, and Wolverine clutching onto the edge of his chair.

"Cyclops - what the hell is going on?"

The trim man in black shrugged, "I have no idea. I can see Magneto ahead - there's a lot of atmospheric disturbance around him. Storm, can you calm it down out there?"

"No problem," she purred, her eyes turning a luminescent white.

The haze at the window folded back, the dark figures a small distance away from the nose of the plane.

"Here's an energy blast to go home with," mumbled Cyclops, fingers dancing over switches and buttons at the control panel. From the nose of the craft burst a red bolt of light that sizzled and careened through the darkening sky. A chill struck Wolverine when the bolt split and curved, sliding around the old man like plasma inside of those glass spheres that he'd seen in tourist shops a thousand times.

"One-Eye, we better get the hell out of here and fast," he said gritting his teeth. "My bones are achin'."

Cyclops glanced back at Wolverine only a moment, his mouth edged open in alarm. His hands slammed the controls, his head shaking darkly. "This guy has to be fallible somehow..."

"He's not."

Silence fell in the craft, all eyes turning to a deathly serene Rogue. She shifted her eyes to Cyclops, lips quivering only slightly.

"He's not fallible. Not like this, with powers. The only way to get at him is here," She tapped the side of her head.

Cyclops didn't have to ask twice how she knew, even once wasn't necessary. The man struggled with the craft's controls, the figures floating in the air coming suddenly closer.

"Cyclops, move our asses, man!" Logan growled, "Those guys are getting closer, and you remember what Helmet-Head did with the back end of that train!"

"I'm trying," grunted Cyclops, pulling hard on the joystick, "Something's keeping us fixed here..."

"Magneto," Jean murmured.

Wolverine snorted, "No shit."

"That's not constructive," Cyclops muttered.

"Scott, just try and get us out of here," said Jean.

The visor-clad man nodded, pulling hard on the joystick, the ship shuddering violently. The sole man clad in white not so far from the ship grimaced, his hand lifted and curling. With a final shake of effort, he fisted his hand tightly.

The ship groaned slowly, rivets popping from their holes in the craft and pinging off the ground in musical tings.

"Jean!"

Jean glanced to Scott, "I'm trying to hold the ship together the best I can!"

"UGHN! I nearly got it!"

Pain ripped through Logan, his bones crumpling inside of him. He felt an almost tangible heat at the side of his head, and turning it stiffly he saw Rogue, her eyes wide and stuck on him. Wolverine looked to the front windows. The white clad man turned in the now deep blue sky, his posse of floating bodies following him like lazy dark birds soaring to the south. He let out a hot breath, clenching his seat.

"I think - I think he's pissing off now," he grunted, "About time too."

Cyclops nodded, "Yeah, the jet is swerving now - come on Birdy..."

A great lurch went through his stomach as the jet swerved away, the scenery out the window swirling past in a flash of dulled dusky colours. A soft voice spoke to him.

"Are you okay?"

He looked behind him to the girl in her chair, clutching at the buckles on her seatbelt, eyes soft in caution. For the first time in an hour, she looked as innocent and vulnerable as when he spotted her in the bar. He nodded haggardly.

"I'm fine, kid."

He could almost taste the relief that exuded from the young woman, her body slackening in the chair. She looked exhausted. Her eyelids drooped and her body slumped. He just wanted to curl her up in his arms and put her to bed. That's exactly what he'd do when they got back to the mansion, too.

Jean glanced back to Rogue, her eyes sharp.

"What happened to her?"

Wolverine looked to her, swallowing, "One of Magneto's goons tried to kill her. She made short work of her."

Alarm lifted in the telekinetic's brown eyes. "She what?"

"She just meant to get her off me," said Logan, "But when she knocked her off, I was unconscious. Next thing I knowI see the crazy bitch pinning Rogue to the ground and strangling her. Rogue was clever enough to touch her."

"We're nearly home," said Cyclops suddenly. "The Professor isn't going to be happy about this."

Jean sighed, shaking her head, "I don't think there was much else we could do. We were out-numbered and out-forced."

"Sometimes you gotta know when to back off," Wolverine said, "And come back when you're fighting fit and have the advantage."

"Let's just hope the Professor sees it that way," said Cyclops, tone low.

Wolverine could see the guy was bummed. It was no surprise to him seeing Scotty-boy hated to lose. In the mere month or so that he'd been back with the X-Men, no fewer than 8 disturbances broke out, and Wolverine had been with the team every time to settle it. They hadn't lost a one, and he knew they hadn't lost many, if at all, before this either. Jean would lick his wounds, (lucky damned son-of-a-bitch) and Scott would be right back into it the next time, he knew. Casting his gaze back to his young companion, an icky warmness spread in his chest. He wasn't so sure how little Rogue would be. Little. She wasn't looking so little in the black leather, but damn could he see it in her sweet brown eyes. Sweet brown eyes? he snorted to himself, You're sounding like a damned romance novel. And romance and the Kid don't go together!

Somehow, as time rolled on, he kept losing those reasons why this was so, just forgetting them or failing to see the sense in them anymore, and little things would pop up where he'd feel thoroughly disturbed at himself. Well, maybe not so little. He clamped his eyes shut and berated himself again. This was ridiculous, and the way home from a mission was not the place to be having inner battles with one's hormones.

The only thing he concerned himself with was wrapping Rogue up safe and sound in a blanket and taking her to the infirmary.

She could feel him moving her, feel things happening about her. Words floated past, through her, she never registered them. Just listened idly and wondered at their meaning. For some reason all she could do is lay limp in his arms and gaze towards whatever was in front of them, be it the gleaming doors of the hangar, the brushed steel glinting in the 'x' shaped doorways, or the worried faces of her comrades. She laughed. It was the sensation of light vibration, shuddering her chest and pulling at her cheeks. It was something. It wasn't pain. Her friends were sad and some part of her reveled in it - and she hated it. She rejected it, but it was bound and clawed and taking her whole.

God help me... she breathed, God help me now.

She'd felt sad before, been rocked through every inch of her soul. Disgust and hatred for herself had seeped in and become too well known in her past but now... oh now. Now there was no reason. No reason for the heavy, suffocating yearning for death that swamped her. And the grief, oh the grief. The world shifted and moved as she felt herself being laid on a bed... a medical bed. Strong swift hands swaddled her up in the starched sheets, the smell of sweat and blood rich and sour around him. Strangely it merged with a faint whiff of cologne, and for a moment she spared a glance to him, to notice him instead of the war in her mind.

Oh God he was beautiful.

"Marie..."

His voice... rough and heavy with tenderness matched the soft and fearful glint in his hazel orbs. He was scared.

"Marie dammit, talk to me."

She gave a huff, eyes sliding to the ceiling, "Hh... I don't -want to speak."

She could sense suddenly, it was overwhelming. Every glance to Logan was more than his face, more than his looks. A splash of emotion totally alien yet beautifully familiar would rush through her mind, as if more was there and she'd been so blind. Maybe she had been - was this how Jean felt? How she lived and saw? Or Xavier?

Perhaps that's why he was so wise. She let her mind drift to him, settling on calm blue eyes. Older eyes, steely and strong, but with that blue, that sea-like blue that was soft and gentle and loving. A soft sob fell from her as she thought of him wheeling down here... he knew and he'd be disappointed.

For the first time she noticed that Logan had laid his head on her shoulder, face pressed against the leather there, his hand gripping hers tightly. His eyes flashed up to meet hers.

"What's wrong?"

She sniffled. "People love me."

He frowned with some confusion. "Huh?"

"H-I'm," she shook her head, "I'm only gonna disappoin' 'em. Cause Ah'm bad! I'm BAD!"

"Bullshit," he breathed, leather-clad hand caressing her cheek, "Marie you-" He closed his eyes, still holding her hand and he met her lost gaze. She'd drifted off again, head tilted elsewhere. He pulled her gaze back with a tuck of his hand at her jaw. "Marie - you saved me."

"Ya didn't need savin'," she sobbed, looking away, "You'w're just fine."

"I was lost," he persisted, smoothing her hair, "You stopped me runnin'."

She felt her gaze pulled back to him, and the crash of emotion that spilled through her from his eyes was the closest thing to comfort she'd felt in hours. It was crazy and wild and possessive and fearful, but it was all blissfully Logan, and anything of him was safe right now. He kept the angry volatile flash of her mind at bay. She tilted her head, peering at him with child-like wonder.

His lips were quivering, his eyes red. Yes, he was scared. And sad.

"I'm not good for you," she said, speaking light, barely feeling anything at all, the crash of everything inside taking out all sense within her, "You worry too much."

His brows twitched down and he nodded, "Yeah, I worry about ya, Kid."

She closed her eyes and sighed, her face twisting as another wash of sobs took her. She didn't know why she sobbed; she just needed to. There was anger and rage inside of her, loathing and distress and all it wanted to do was smash through her mind and pull her down into nothingness. If it hadn't been for the shifting of Logan's head to the nape of her neck, his hand clutching hers at her chest, she'd not have realised he had been speaking to her.

"...ver's going on in there you hang on. Hang onto me if you have to - I don't mind. Just don't be hidin' in there."

"Not hiding," she croaked through sob-swollen vocal chords, "Fighting."

He held her tighter, sighing long. "Lemme fight with ya."

She let her cheek rest against the ruffle of his hair, "Not your fight, sugah."

It was all very surreal; the scene seemed too strange. Her thoughts swirled in a battling cacophony as a sudden weariness overwhelmed her. Logan was there, at her side. For a brief moment, she felt safe, and that brief moment was one her body seized upon to rally against her and pull her down into a fitful sleep.

He laid there, his arms around her, eyes locked on her face as she slid asleep.

This was all so wrong. Worry racked him, tightening his stomach to knots. Something wasn't right with Marie, he knew, but in her flashing eyes was a wash of fear he didn't know. He wanted to know - he wanted to squash the fear and promise her that she'd be okay, that she didn't need to fear anything. He wanted her to get up and grin brightly and wag her legs in the air whilst chewing on the end of a pencil and writing tender Latin poetry on his bed; Not lay there looking as if her limbs were lead. He barely noticed the presence of Jean Grey next to the bed. Her voice reached out to him like a soft nudging.

"It's good she's finally asleep."

Logan nodded slightly, sitting up.

"What happened out there Logan? I want details."

He didn't want to think about what happened out there. Remembering was pure torture on him. He pressed his finger to his lips, carefully backing away from Rogue so not to wake her. Finally at his feet, he pressed his lips to her hair.

He joined Jean as she strolled from the small observation room, closing the door quietly behind her as Logan walked through.

"Well?"

Logan took the moment to lean against the wall, letting out a long sigh.

"It was a fucking nightmare, Jean." He closed his eyes a moment, then shook his head. "I dunno. We got out there, and this bitch comes floatin' down from on high and starts kicking the shit out of us."

"And Marie tried to stop her?"

"Naw," Logan shook his head again stared at her long, "I did."

Jean nodded.

"She was strong man, fucking strong. I'm talking Superman bending steel strong, ya know?"

"I see."

"Yeah," Logan grunted, "She made short work of me."

"So she moved on to Rogue?"

Logan sank down the wall and sat on a long bench against it.

"Yeah, must have. Rogue had touched her, to stop her from killing me. She stopped her but I slipped out cold like a right pansy."

The lady doctor gave him a firm glare, "I'm sure you did what you could Logan."

He shrugged, "Wasn't enough was it? I couldn't even walk, for fuck's sake. She must've broken one of my legs. She was strangling Rogue, and Rogue was touching her - and I couldn't even fucking move."

"That coincides with the bruising on her neck and face," Jean said, running the tips of her fingers over her chin. "You killed the woman then?"

"Her name was Binary, apparently," Logan said, a rush of loathing bursting inside of him at the mention of her name, "And I stuck my claws in her yeah. But she didn't look in very good shape, Jean. I think Rogue had just about finished her off."

He did not miss the dread that flickered in Jean's eyes.

"You think that's bad?"

She sighed and shrugged, "I don't know Logan. Who knows what effects nearly taking someone's life with this power could have."

She was trying to get to something, he didn't like her beating about the bush. He jutted out a bottom lip with a rumple of his brow.

"What're you sayin'?"

Jean gave a light flutter of her eyes, shrugging again, "This mental disruption - it could be permanent, it could be over tomorrow night."

He grit his teeth, steel determination growing in him, "Well let's be workin' for tomorrow night, huh? She can't miss too much school cause of this shit."

Jean looked a little exasperated, and he didn't want her to. Cause if she was exasperated, that meant something was wrong, specifically with Marie, and something wrong and Marie were bad, and he didn't want to accept that there even COULD be anything wrong with her that couldn't be fixed up. The touching thing was bad enough. The look on the doctor fell to a dark one, and Logan's stomach twisted tighter.

"Logan, I'm afraid Rogue could be in some form of counseling because of this event for some time yet."

He gave her a wide-eyed glare, "Well - for how long?!"

"I don't know yet," Jean said gently, "I still have to assess her mental state."

"What's to fucking assess?" he growled, anger rising, "She's upset damnit! She nearly killed someone!"

Jean just closed her eyes as Logan's temper let loose, relief washing over her features as the door to the infirmary opened. Cyclops stuck his head around the door, worry in his brow.

"Everything okay here?"

Jean nodded silently, "Yeah. Just discussing Marie's condition."

He nodded, moving out into the main infirmary, Logan and Jean following as he spoke.

"What's the news then?"

"I've been observing her for the past half hour," Jean said, "Her thoughts are muddled, her perception of her own persona is shaky at best. She's feeling incredible guilt over things she hasn't even done, and uh..."

"Killin' that bitch," rumbled Logan.

Scott's light expression faded, "I thought you did that."

"No, he just - uh - helped her along," Jean said, leaning against a workbench that lined the walls of the infirmary.

"Why didn't anybody tell me about this?" the Leader said, looking to Jean and Logan. Logan just grunted, shaking his head.

"We just did."

Scott nodded and clenched his teeth. "Right. So - she's mentally unstable?"

Logan clenched his teeth, "No, she's UPSET!"

Jean sighed, gripping Logan's arm.

"Logan, she's more than upset. She's going through deep mental trauma. I don't know what else to do but to treat this as a Multiple Personality disorder and try to calm her down with sedatives."

"Sedatives?!"

Logan's shout rang off the wall and both Jean and Scott flinched. Logan glared back at the observation room and sighed, his voice lowering to a hiss.

"Listen, Jean, I don't know how many people you killed in your life, but doin' it for the first time is kind of a mind-fuck, ya know? So she's shaken - you'd be too after your first!"

Jean rolled her eyes a little, "Logan, this more than that-"

"NO!" Logan said, pointing at her, "No fucking sedatives. She can deal with this. She said so herself - she's gotta fight it."

Jean blinked, her lashes wavering softly, "And what if she loses?"

"I think it's her right to take that chance," he said gruffly, "Don't you?"

Scott shook his head, "What if Xavier could help her sort it out?"

Logan's face drew calm. "What do you mean?"

"Well," said Scott, "Xavier probed my mind when I first got to this school, to see if there was any way to control my powers. I'm just thinking, perhaps he can help her - sort out all the different thoughts somehow or-"

"No," Logan shook his head, "No see - then Xavier would have put a nice patch over the problem and it's still not solved. She needs to deal with this. Herself!"

Jean's gaze became a glare, dark eyes stern. "You're not her legal guardian, Logan."

"Nope," he said, shaking his head, "But you wanna stick anything in her or fuck with her brain - ya gotta get past me!"

At that he swung around, stalking back into the infirmary observation room.

Running. Across a vast stretch of grass and blue sky - that's all there was. And she ran, her legs powering as fast as she could get them to run. Fear confounded her and voices overwhelmed her. Whether they were hers, or Carol's, Erik's -she knew they were too cruel and cold to be Logan's.... Logan....

As she ran down a hillock the stark pillar-lined facade of Xavier's School for the Gifted loomed large. Soft music drifted from the house, muffled and tinkling. As her bare feet slapped up the steps, she reached for the front door, but it snapped open fast.

"Jesus!! Cyke... what're-"

Her voice died in her throat as she focused on the face of who was at the door. Scott... with no eyes, just burnt out hollow cavities where they should have been. And he didn't speak, he just clenched his statuesque jaw at her, stepping aside darkly. Before she could say much more, a painfully familiar sound drew her inside.

Inside, there were no tall wood-paneled corridors that reeked of old tapestries and wood varnish. It was a neat little house, with tasteful decoration and frills and modest wooden decking. The source of the tinkling music called her, and she stepped forward, her voice catching.

"Momma..."

At a piano sat her mother, eyes fixed to the keys, her fingers running up and down the keyboard in a mindless exercise.

"Momma... I'm sorry."

Her mother looked up, and as she did her face somehow changed... dark mousy hair flashing gold.

"Ya killed me Marie."

She shook her head, stumbling back, "No Momma!"

"Ya killed me!" the woman sobbed as she staggered to her feet and began after Marie. Marie stumbled back, arms flailing.

"Ah didn't Ah swear!"

"Ya left me and it KILLED me baby!"

Tears blurred her vision, the round comforting frame of her mother slipping to solid and lilting black contours.

"Ya touched my skin and I died and it's all causah you! And I'm gone! Like David and like Carol and like Logan! You're gonna kill him too!"

She shook her head again, "No - I'll never touch him! Never hurt him!!!"

And then it came... an awful groan. Spinning about, she looked to the floor. Her soul wretched in horror.

Logan lay in a spatter of blood, his body wrecked, marred with long open wounds that seemed too familiar. As she ran to his side, her gloved hands clutched his face, the hot stickiness of his blood seeping into them.

"Logan... no no... please..."

The empty hazel eyes glistened thickly, and then so slowly, dropped to meet hers...

---

The blood-curdling scream that ripped through Logan's ears blasted him from the light nap he was catching, his head laying back on the wall as he sat uncomfortably in the chair next to Rogue's bed. The sound lurched him bolt upright, and the sudden shock of fire and metal struck his arms as his claws sprung from his forearms.

Breathing frantically he clutched the chair he'd been sleeping on, fighting to calm himself. It was then he heard it... the soft sobbing.

"Logan..."

He sank down into the chair, relief seeping into him at the sight of Marie, head thrashing back and forth in her sleep. Bad dream... thank God.

"Hey, Marie..."

He shook her shoulder gently, secretly reveling in the soft silk of her hair that fell around it and caressed his hand. She shook her head, grunting lightly, her lips curling up in protest.

"Come on, Marie," he said, nudging her again, "Wake up baby..."

"UUh!"

Marie jerked upright, a soft gasping cry falling from her. Her eyes fell upon Logan next to her, fear rimming them

"Logan!"

"I'm here, Marie."

She whimpered, scooting off the bed and into the corner of the small room, her frame suddenly young and gangly as she hunched into herself, the black leather gleaming in the fluorescent lighting. She shook her head, sobbing into her arms.

Logan swept around the bed and crouched next to her, hands reaching for her shoulders tentatively.

"Hey... Marie-"

"No!" she bleated, "Get away!"

His face fell, "I won't hurt you."

"No!" she glared at him from behind her curtain of hair, "NO!"

"I won't I swear-"

A hand, naked, struck out from her curled form and she glared at him again, brown eyes brimming with pain, tears glistening on her face as she held her hand only a few inches away from his face. Logan didn't flinch at the proximity... didn't move. She spoke, her voice a thin breath that sent a shiver all over him.

"Ah can hurt you... So easily, so easily."

Her mouth closed to a pained pout, her bottom lip shuddering as her hand pulled back slowly, shakenly. Her eyes fell shut as she leant back against the wall, long sobs lifting in her.

"Marie, look at me."

She shook her head, silken strands of hair shifting at her movements. He reached forward, laying his palm against her head, his soul wracking with pain as she hissed and curled into a tighter ball, recoiling at his touch. He grit his teeth, placing his hand down again, gripping her upper arm most distant to him and pulling her around.

"LOOK at me!"

She sobbed, her body turned to him but her face twisted away. At his forceful command she panted, looking fearfully through mussed tresses, her eyes glinting.

"There," he said, voice hushed, "Now - do I look like the kinda guy you can just hurt?"

She nodded fractionally, "Yes."

"No, Marie," he said, "No."

"I can," she said quietly.

He pressed his lips together in a sharp look, "No, Marie, you can't."

"You think," she gave a tired laugh, "You think you moved me just now... I could break your neck like a toothpick."

He blinked at her, trying to battle the horror flickering over his features. There was such a coldness that settled over her, such a slick chill that ripped the humanity from her gentle voice. Her eyes peered at him emptily, till a warmth blushed in them and her face twisted in horror.

She screamed.

Clenching her eyes shut she sobbed, burying her face in her arms, and Logan pulled at her again, regardless of what harm she thought she could do, wrapping his arms around her and pressing her to his chest. With a determination he kissed her hair, embracing her tightly.

"I'm not gonna let anything happen to ya, Kid," he said, "You got that?"

She didn't answer. She hung in his arms as he rocked them back and forth, her sobs soft and pain-ridden.

It was going to be a very long ride.

---

Somehow, they'd gotten her changed into a long flannel nightshirt and leggings with socks and gloves, and she had a tray of food in front of her in the observation room. She barely registered as they bustled her about. Jean changed her, fed her, talked to her softly in tender tones. Every time she enjoyed Jean's treatment in the slightest guilt would splash through her and she'd hate herself again. She didn't know why she hated herself. She couldn't even tell what WAS herself, and what was - someone else.

From the corner of her eye she saw Logan standing with arms folded over himself, eyes boring into her. Were it any other moment in her time with him she would have blushed and turned away coyly. That was a time when she was softer, clean of the ruddy muck that was dripping inside her mind. Now she just stared blankly at her plate, feeling hunger but reveling in the ache it hollowed inside of her. A part of her damned herself to feel that hunger, to never abate it with the lush give of a morsel in her mouth, one of the few tangible sensations she had with her senses of touch.

Every now and again the dark ache within her would swell, and she'd let out an empty sob. Logan would clench all over and she didn't care. All at once, the pain would die in her, not letting her release, just letting her simmer and burn. She barely blinked. Her lips were chapped and dry from inaction, and tears were dried against her pale cheeks.

She was a little surprised when Logan moved from his post and sat in the visitor's chair next to her bed, taking her gloved hand tenderly.

"Marie..."

She didn't look at him. She didn't move.

"Marie, listen to me."

With a sigh he touched her face and she flinched, glaring at him.

"Gotcha."

She looked down to his hand - thin cotton gloves. She frowned.

"Jean gave 'em to me - she said…" He stopped. "Marie?"

She still glared at him, leaning back from him. He sighed, caressing her hand in his in a paternal fashion.

"Look baby, you gotta eat."

She looked away, but the gloved hand pulled her gaze back.

"You have to eat, Marie, you need to."

The tears filled her eyes again, and her dry lips cracked as she winced in pain. Her eyelids felt dry, like there was nothing more to give, her throat red hot and tender.

"I don't want it."

"If you don't eat you'll get sick."

"I know."

Logan sighed, bringing his head down to her hands. He looked up at her once more.

"Is it cause you're not hungry?"

She shook her head.

"Are you feeling sick?"

"No."

Her voice was cracked, cool, and the effect on Logan was noticeable. His eyes grew a little wetter, his brow tilting up. That dark plague inside of her rushed on his agony, whilst every single cell in her body cried out at hurting him. She felt him clutch her hand again, and then the warm press of his lips against her knuckles.

"I saw her Logan."

Her voice startled him, and he looked up to meet her eyes. They turned and met his very slowly, the brown clear and empty.

"I saw her in mah head."

"Who?"

Her bottom lids crept up as she winced. "Her."

He didn't move, but she felt his hand hold onto her tighter.

"I saw her, with her hand around your neck."

She sighed raggedly, her lips catching against themselves.

"And then I was her. And I wanted to die."

"Hey!"

His hands were at her face again, warm, tender and gentle, and she didn't want to look where they guided her.

"Don't touch me," she moaned.

He kept touching her, pulling her around to meet his gaze.

"No, Logan, I can't..."

"You can," he growled. "You're not her, Marie.

Her eyes rolled up to meet his, the action like that of a sick animal.

"You're you. You're Marie, you remember that!"

Her brows tilted up and a sob overtook her, she rolled into his arms.

It was the second time in two days he'd paced in the observation room, Jean's angry buzz sending every muscle in his body as tight as a wire. He clenched his eyes shut, his hand a fist over his mouth. He knew what Jean wanted to do. He knew what Xavier could do. And it was killing him watching her go through the pain. He wanted to succumb, to let them play with her head with their little mind tricks.

But mind tricks often faded.

He heard the distinctive rev of Xavier's chair in the other room, and the door opened, Xavier rolling in slowly. His eyes weren't soft or caring. They were clear and full of purpose, as was the man's voice when he spoke.

"How is she?"

Logan knew that the words were meaningless. Xavier may as well have said, "Where do we stand?"

"She's fucked," Logan growled, staring at her through the mirror.

The Professor blinked slowly through the profanity and sighed long. Jean looked over to him.

"She's experiencing a lot of distress at the new brain patterns she's obtained through her victim. She's going through something similar to severe mental breakdown, Professor."

Logan puckered his mouth as he breathed in deeply, eyelids tight, "Jean said you could do something."

Xavier looked up to Logan.

"She said that you - that you could stop it."

The Professor shook his head, "I'm afraid not, Logan. Not permanently. She needs rest, and she needs to talk. I can't cure her of this - control of the different patterns in her mind is something that needs to be controlled by her, and not an external force."

Logan turned and stared at Jean darkly.

"Don't you dare say it, Logan."

Logan rolled his tongue around his mouth and stared back out the mirror, "I told ya so."

Jean gave a sigh and turned away from him. "This doesn't change her condition."

"Yeah well, the one thing I do know is that I'm not leaving her side till this is over."

"You'll have to," Xavier said, "I need to perform a deep mind probe."

Logan glared at him.

"I thought you said you couldn't help her."

"I can guide her," Xavier said, "But to fully recover, she must help herself."

Logan nodded slowly. "Someone's gotta, cause she's dyin' in there. Inside out."

Logan could hear the trundle of the Professor's chair as the man drew near. The voice that spoke to him was a breath, one of promise and hope.

"I will try Logan."

---

He stepped closer to her prone form. She was asleep, no doubt because of the lack of food. In this state his hands ran over her forehead, uncovered, unsheathed. Her eyes opened slowly, in horror. She shook her head, crawling back, but his hands gripped hers, his eyes clear and strong.

"No," she shook her head, the words quiet in this place, "No, no."

His voice cut through the silence. "You can't hurt me with your touch," he said, "Nor with your strength."

"But-"

Rogue heaved in a breath, her brows tilting up.

"Marie," he said, voice gravelled and even, "Tell me what is troubling you."

She huffed, tears rimming her eyes, "Ah'm scared!"

He came forward, sitting primly on the edge of the bed, old but strong hands reaching for her.

"Let me help you," he said, "Show me what frightens you."

Rogue nodded, seeming so small, her arms sliding around him, crushing her face into his shoulder.

She wasn't surprised when he stood, guiding her out of the observation ward. Somehow, she was safe, totally and completely safe.

They moved through the secret room that looked into the room she was staying in. Logan was crouched over, staring at her. She gasped.

She was in bed, curled over, and the Professor - he sat there in his chair. She whirled about to the Professor.

"Don't be scared, Rogue," he said, "I'm here to keep you safe."

She nodded - it was all she needed. She turned about and peered at Logan. "Can I?"

The Professor nodded.

She stepped to him, kneeling down in front of the chair he sat in that was at a small table in the observation room in which they stood in. Leaning forward, she let her lips sit at his, the sensation like the hot breeze of a Mississippi summer brushing her skin tenderly. Simple romantic fancy was not in the fire of the chaste kiss. It was something far deeper, more binding. She saw him close his eyes, a reverence in his face as he dropped his head down.

"Thank you..." she breathed.

"Come on," Xavier said gently, "Show me what's bothering you."

She turned, and closing her eyes, she took his hand.

They sank now, swirled, spinning to a place that wasn't outside of them, but inside of her. With a terrible crunch of her soul, she was there. Logan was dangling in the darkness, the cold, gloved hand crushing him. A growl grew in Rogue's throat, her legs ready to send her flying towards the woman.

"Wait Rogue-"

The Professor grabbed her hand, pulling her back with a surprising strength.

"NO!" Rogue cried, "She's gonna kill 'im!!"

"Logan is safe in the observation room. This is your mind, Rogue."

Rogue peered at the battling figures. She squinted. Behind them, somewhere, a hazy shape stood.

"David?"

The shape coalesced to a thin film of the image of her friend. She narrowed her eyes again.

"What're you-"

"I didn't know you were gonna turn out a mutie," he said, "So pretty but so - different."

She felt the catch of a sob in her throat, "Do you - do you hate me?"

"How can I hate you?" he said, lifting a hand and brushing it against her face, "You're Marie."

She shook her head, "David, I nearly killed ya."

He nodded, "I nearly died."

She looked to him in complete incomprehension.

"I lived."

A cry ripped through the nothing-place, and Rogue spun about. Logan and - Carol - they were clenched around each other, arms and legs tangled, bodies stuck in a death grip. She frowned.

"What are they doing?"

Xavier looked down at Rogue. "You tell me, Marie."

She glanced back at the figures. "They're - they're fightin' over me."

"Yes," nodded Xavier. "For dominance."

She clenched her fists, "But it's MY mind!"

Xavier took a long, proud breath in. "You tell them that."

After gazing at Xavier a long moment, she nodded, treading over to the battling figures. The blonde woman wriggled out of Logan's hold, and just as she was about to throw herself back into a tussle with him, she stopped, throwing her hair back. She grinned, a predatory gesture that, right now, didn't scare Rogue. Not yet anyway. Logan stepped forward, his hands out carefully.

"Marie, get out of here."

"No Logan," Marie said, meeting his frantic gaze, "This is my place. I belong here."

He stepped back a little, brows tilting up in helplessness. "I want to protect you."

She closed her eyes a moment and sighed, "I have to do that, Logan."

"Yes Logan," echoed Carol, "Can't be the hero today. Can't fuck around with your little girl's head."

Rogue glared at Carol, "You say too much."

Carol smirked, "Do I? Well what are you gonna do?" The cat-like woman prowled forward, gloved hands sliding down over Rogue's form. "Such a pretty body I'm in now. Such a pretty face I have." She squeezed Rogue's cheek and chuckled. It was a hollow cruel sound.

Rogue turned to Xavier, eyes brimming with hurt and hate. Xavier nodded to her, and Rogue met the crazy woman's eyes.

"You have no body, Carol. No mind."

Pressing her cheek to Rogue's, Carol cooed.

"Oh I disagree," she said, "My strength is now yours - my mind a part of yours.... Poor Logan over there is trying to stop me you know. On the inside after the outside. Thing is - I nearly killed him out there... and I can easily do the same in here."

Rogue turned and met her eyes with a glare. "Same way I nearly killed you?"

Carol shuddered, "Dumb luck."

"No," Rogue shook her head, "My luck."

Rogue felt Xavier beside her, strengthening her. His hands held hers, and he looked to her. "What do you want to do Rogue?"

Rogue's eyes fell to Carolyn's. "I want to kill her."

Xavier's calm look fell, "No Rogue-"

Rogue nodded, moving towards the woman.

"Rogue stop!"

Carol edged back, real fear in her light blue eyes. Everything swirled around Rogue as a body barreled into her from the side, and when she stopped tumbling, she looked up to meet a set of wild hazel eyes.

"Stop, Marie."

"Logan," she huffed, "Get off me!"

"I'm not gonna let you hurt yourself," he said.

"I'm not hurting me, I'm hurtin' HER!"

"Ya don't get it!" he growled, "She IS a part of you now."

She glared to the Professor, who gazed down at the tussle sadly. A sob filled the girl and she writhed underneath Logan.

"Tha's - " She gulped, "Tha's why Ah wanna die!"

Logan gripped her face, pulling her gaze to his like he always did, "Don't say shit like that!"

She shook her head, "I wanna die Logan, I jus' wanna stop hurtin'."

A strong hand gripped her upper arm, and turning her head she saw Xavier crouched down next to her, pulling her out from underneath Logan.

"Why, Marie?"

"What?"

His face was stern, unrelenting, "Why do you want to die?"

"She's a part a' me," said Rogue.

Xavier's face didn't move. "So?"

Rogue blinked, "So... you've seen her mind!"

"Yes, Rogue, I have," he nodded, "And I've seen the capabilities of far worse in even the sweetest of minds. Like all darkness Rogue, you must understand it."

"Ah can't!"

His eyes flickered with a steely firmness, "You MUST. And then you must take it in, accept it. Only then can you resist it Marie, only THEN can you be strong."

Rogue shook her head, tears streaming down her features, "Ah can't!! I don't know how!"

The unforgiving hardness in Xavier's eyes mellowed. "You musn't punish yourself for the crimes of another. You must know her, understand her, and put her to rest."

She knew what 'her' he was talking about. That 'her' sent chills of agony down her body. The girl rolled herself up and crouched on the floor, rocking back and forth, mumbling.

"I don't wanna," she breathed, "Ah can't - I can't take the pain anymore!"

Strong hands were on her shoulders, squeezing firmly.

"You can."

The next sob caught in her throat, and she looked up. Next to her stood Xavier, but in front of her, hands pressed to her shoulders, was an adamant looking Logan. She frowned, letting him pull her to her feet from the curled up ball she was in before. He met her eyes with a determined press of his lips.

"You're strong, Marie," he said, "Like me."

She swallowed, tilting her head, "I am?"

He nodded, "Yup. You can control it, like I control the animal inside of me."

Rogue turned, meeting the gaze of the Professor.

"He's right, Rogue," he said, "It's all in your grasp, the control of the jumble of thoughts in your head."

She nodded now, licking her lips, an eagerness in her eyes that had been dead for so long.

"Show me how."

Xavier's face was drawn in concentration, his frame curled over the sleeping form of Marie. He was deathly still, his fingers folded together and in his lap. Logan was set vigil behind the two-way mirror, never budging in the observation room. He would not move, his brow pressed down and shrouding his eyes in shadow. He barely twitched as the door to the room opened.

"Hey..."

A steaming cup of cocoa was slid in front of him on the desk in the room, the skid of a pulled chair and a heavy sigh accompanying it.

"Drink up."

Logan glanced to the taller man next to him, nostril twitching as the smell of the chocolate drink teased his senses. Scott pointed to the mug, red lenses gleaming in the dim light of the room.

"It has a marshmallow in it."

Logan looked down to it, "Really..."

"Old Summers recipe, like my Mom used to make," he added, and took a sip of his own mug.

Lifting the mug to his lips gingerly, Logan took a small nip of the frothy-topped drink. Well, damn, Cyke made good cocoa. Who knew? "What do you want?"

Scott sighed again, "You have barely left this room in the past three days, Logan."

He shrugged, "I showered."

"Yeah, but you haven't eaten."

"Not hungry."

"Logan..." The drone from Scott was one of warning, and Logan threw a look of disregard to the man.

"They haven't moved for two days."

Tilting his head a little, Scott gazed at the telepath and the girl.

"You know, when Jean first got here, she was pretty much in the same boat as Rogue."

He glanced to the Fearless Leader in surprise, "She was?"

Cyclops nodded, "Hell yeah. At first she was distant, cold, and then when her power grew stronger she was as disturbed as Rogue."

Logan clenched his jaw, eyes roving over the melting marshmallow in the mug warming his hands to a tingle.

"What happened?"

Scott shrugged, "Xavier trained her. Every day he spent hours with her, teaching her everything he knew of mental discipline." A little smile flashed on the younger man's face, "And I spent pointless hours in here waiting and watching on her."

Logan glared at the bespectacled man, hands tightening around the mug, "Cyke..."

Scott smirked, patting his shoulder gently, "Friendly warning, comrade. Enjoy the cocoa."

Logan kept his eyes set on Marie as Scott strolled from the room. He'd seen the dedication and damn near sickly-sweet rapport going on between Cyclops and Jean. God shoot him down in flames before that ever happened between him and the Kid.

She was exactly that - a kid. Barely eighteen and only kissed by adulthood. Why did her eyes have to be so old?

He put away those thoughts, frowning and watching the Professor at work. Not the most exciting spectator sport, considering, but right now he'd not be anywhere else. He couldn't help the waves of disappointment that crashed through him on occasion. Not that it was an egotistical thing, but he wanted to help her. The fact that he apparently had no power to caused a terrible ache in him.

He didn't want her hurting, and he could smell the ache all over her. The tears, the tension, the anxiety. It didn't have a place on Rogue, not in his mind. All he was allowed to do was wait, and he'd rather impale himself than interrupt whatever Xavier was up to. He sipped at the cocoa in his hands, hoping that his time here waiting wouldn't be too much longer.

He wasn't sure if the school was taking turns at "Let's get Logan out of the Ob Room" but there was another set of knuckles wrapping at the door. He gave an audible grunt and sighed.

"Come in."

By fact that the person knocked tipped him off that it wasn't Jean. Jean doesn't knock anywhere in her own damned infirmary. And the blunt sweet smell of girl's deodorant hit him, one he'd smelt before but never tried to pin on any one person. As a dark-skinned girl in a gaudy yellow jacket toed her way into the room, he gave a regarding twitch of a nostril.

"Hi," she said, her voice small, "Um..."

He cocked a brow expectantly.

"I'm - I'm Jubilee. Rogue's friend?"

"Right," he nodded, looking back to his cocoa, "She mentioned you the other day."

Jubilee nodded, taking a seat next to Logan after closing the door. It annoyed him a little that the girl assumed he wanted her in there just because he acknowledged her presence.

The girl folded her arms, leaning on the table and sighing.

"How is she?"

Logan didn't move; his eyes were fixed to the sleeping form of Marie. "The same."

A deep sigh fell through the girl, and she hugged herself. She looked to Logan. "They said you've been here every day since..."

Logan glared at her, "So?"

"Oh," she shrugged, "I just - I thought that was really cool of you. She needs someone - even if she can't see 'em."

He gazed at Rogue, pursing his lips, his brow crinkling thoughtfully. "Everyone else has been telling me to get out of here."

"Sure. That's the exact thing to tell you to do if they want a wrecked mansion on their hands."

"Huh?"

She gave him a wry smile, "I sincerely doubt you could keep still for too long."

He gave a gruff sigh, "For someone I just met you know an awful lot about me."

"You kiddin'?" she snorted, "I'm Rogue's best friend! Duh! It's like Logan this, Logan that, yadda yad-"

She stopped, looking through the corner of her eyes at Logan, who sat stock still, eyes boring into her. She cleared her throat. "Uhhh, not that she's that bad - yeah sure... oh crap," She fidgeted, "Forget I said anything..."

"I didn't hear anything," he mumbled, the cocoa suddenly fascinating to him.

"I didn't say anything," said Jubilee, shaking her head adamantly, "God it's a pretty day."

"Haven't been outside to see," Logan said.

"Not surprising," she said, and pulled out a small packet of chewy lollies that were readily available at one of the dormitory vending machines. She held the plastic packet up. "Gummy bear?"

His eyes fluttered at the chewy sugar treats offered to him, and he ventured to grab one, only because of his suddenly low blood sugar.

"Thanks..."

The thing squelched and bounced in his mouth, as if refusing to be broken up by his teeth.

"This thing doesn't wanna quit," he grumbled.

Jubes popped one in her mouth and nodded blandly, "Yep. They last and last and last. You can go a whole history class with 'Ro on four of these."

He glared at her, "I don't believe you."

She blinked at him matter of factly, "Try me."

With a huff he looked back to Marie.

"I'd rather not."

After a long moment of relative silence, both of them gazing out the mirror (the noise of Jubilee chewing on a rather stubborn gummy-bear filled it adequately to annoy Logan some), Jubilee frowned.

"Dude...Xavier is really boring to watch."

"Tell me about it..."

"Though..." Jubilee tilted her head; "He has this vein on the side of his head that's kinda really throbbing..."

Logan tapped his teeth with his tongue and nodded, "Yeah... I noticed that too."

"Wow... that's so grody..."

"Great," groaned Logan. Jubilee looked to him, blinking her large black eyes at him expectantly.

"What?"

He sighed forlornly. "Now all I can look at is the vein. Before I could ignore it, but now..."

"Sorry," Jubes shrugged meekly, popping another gummy-bear in her mouth before looking back to the Professor. "Wow... it's like a lava lamp."

Logan gave a sudden sigh, "Look - can we quit talkin' about his damned head?"

"Geez!" Jubes cowered a little, "Fine sure! Whatever!"

"Thank you."

She blinked at him and then looked to her own fingers picking through the gummy-bears, "Jus' tryin' to make conversation."

"You're not very good at it."

Jubilee swept an unimpressed look to Logan. "So, you let Rogue ride in your trailer, right?"

Mouth edging open in caution, Logan nodded.

"And she didn't jump out?"

That little...

"Didn't have to," he said, "She didn't annoy me by pointing out something I had to look at for hours."

"You don't like lookin' at it then don't look at it!"

He grit his teeth, his patience fast running out, "I wasn't, not until you wouldn't shut UP about it!"

Jubilee glared at him as his voice rose, a growl rumbling in his throat, and whilst cringing, her bottom lip jut out slightly and quivered.

"I'm sorry..." she rasped.

Suddenly, Logan's anger seeped away some, enough to see the cowering young woman next to him, hands clenched around a little packet of gummy-bears, his own hands gripping the mug underneath him with knuckles an interesting white. And one thought hit him.

I am such an asshole.

He gave a heavy sigh, patting Jubilee's shoulder roughly, if not a little tentatively, shaking his head at himself.

"I'm sorry... I'm just -" He threw a hand towards the unconscious Rogue, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on him. "I'm worried about her."

Jubilee sighed back at him, her hand on Logan's shoulder this time, squeezing it.

"Look, mister... I know this might not help, but like - I've been here since I was thirteen. That's like five years. And in all that time, Xavier's never failed us."

A darkness grew in Logan's chest, and with a tightness in his lips he scowled down at his cocoa. The marshmallow had melted -all that was left was a sickly sweet puddle of gloop floating at the surface.

"There's always a first time, kid."

---

Jubilee left him with the ten remaining gummy-bears, hugging him tightly before she went to defense night-classes. She'd stuck with him all day, and she had announced herself a comrade-in-time-passing-conversation. The brassy young woman silently surprised Logan, as she was better company than she looked. Despite the talking too much. It was when Jubilee was having one of her more shrill discussions that he missed his soft-spoken Marie the most. It was cruel that she was just there, beyond the glass, in the small room asleep.

Whether it was light or dark outside, he didn't know, but the watch on his wrist read seven o'clock.

Then the door was knocked upon again, an elegant gait of heels that heralded Jean's approach. She gave a tired smile as she walked in, foil-covered tray in her hands.

"Oh geez..."

"Thought I'd bring you some food to eat. Apparently Jubilee got you to have some gummy-bears but they're not really going to sustain you after three days fasting."

"I wasn't fasting," Logan grumbled, head cradled in folded arms upon the desk, his words being delivered into the formica tabletop underneath him, echoing around the room. "I ate a 100 grand bar. And a few mini-quiches - Scooter was in here eating some."

"That's bound to keep a man of your size in tip-top condition," she muttered back at him dryly, unwrapping the meal and sliding it in front of Logan. "Eat. Or I'll stick a needle in your arm and force some sustenance into you."

"Wow," he said drolly, "Your bedside manner is getting better with time, Red."

"I do what I can," she said, pulling up the chair next to him, sinking down into it.

Silence drifted between them, the only sound being Logan picking at the cutlery, unwrapping it from the cloth serviette they were bound in. His hazel eyes lifted to her brown ones, and with a visible shift in his expression, he let his hands drop on the table.

"Three days, Jean. What the hell is going on?"

Jean's eyes fluttered closed, and she sighed. "I don't know, Logan. It's not my place to barge in and find out either. All we can do is wait-"

"What are they doing in there anyway?!" he growled, "Is he asleep? Are they both just sleeping or is something actually happening?"

Jean's eyes were suddenly cast to the scene beyond the two-way mirror, a quiet awe in them directed at the Professor. "A lot is happening in there," she said. "Nothing I'd like to guess on."

Logan cast her a tired look, then pushed the meal away, enfolding his head in his arms. There was a slender hand on his shoulder suddenly, it squeezed and comforted along with the smooth voice.

"The Professor is doing his best, you can be sure of that, Logan."

He didn't care. He really didn't care. It wasn't important to him, and the touch on his shoulder was a burning cold that made the quiet anger within him bubble. He wasn't sure why he was angry - it wasn't Jean's fault. But Jean wasn't Marie. Jean was fine, and Marie wasn't. Jean was assuring him, and he knew - she had no idea how it would all turn out. She was as uncertain as he was. With a grunt, he turned away, battling a roughness in his throat.

"Just - just go, Jean."

Sliding her hand away, Jean tilted her brows up, the sympathy on her features reaching him, but failing to make him feel any better.

He didn't pay Jean any mind as she left, and any appetite he had before she entered was gone from him. All he could bring himself to do was wait - wait for her. The small grey sparsely furnished room, the strangely warmly decorated observation room on the other side of the glass from him, and Rogue's sleeping form were all he saw, all he put his mind to. Every bit of will, every bit of hope, he poured into her. Guilt wracked him mercilessly, if's and would have's haunting him.

They were thoroughly tiring, and often he found himself slumping over in the chair, catching a moment's sleep against the desk in front of him. He wasn't sure how many hours he'd spent curled up over the desk like that; then again he wasn't sure of the hours he spent awake either. Often his mind would leap in anticipation and create a moving, animated Marie in it's own eye, dreams that would cruelly bring his heart to the brim with relief...

And he'd awaken. In the bed, Marie would still be lying, the Professor vigil.

At least in those situations, it wasn't the dark dreams he had, where the Professor was gone, and so was she. At least then, the dark hopelessness didn't chase him around. Disappointment was far easier to handle.

The dreams had taunted him so that when he awoke this time, when he saw Marie turning her head, redness and tears in her eyes but a ... a lighter look to the sadness there, he thought it was another dream. But the Professor moved his chair, wheeling out of there weakly, weaker than he had in Logan's visions, and Marie curled up and was just a frail looking slip of what she usually was... and the dream didn't end.

For the first time in days, Logan felt tears spill down his face, and he raced from the room, heart thumping wildly.

---

He didn't wait to tell Jean, he just ran, slamming open the door, half toppling over Charles Xavier trying to leave the very room Logan was struggling to get into. The frantic younger looking man stuck a toe into the chair and launched himself over the top of it, the Professor ducking in slight alarm. There was no mistaking the tired smile on his face, however.

Logan didn't notice. His vision was fixed to the sleepy girl before him, her eyes calm - sad, and calm. At the scuffle and grunting in front of her she looked up, and a soft smile fell on her face. Her voice was a breath, rough from lack of use and she leant forward in the bed.

"Logan..."

He pulled her forward into his arms, hugging her tightly, not caring if they accidentally brushed skins.

"You okay?"

He leant back, dipping his head down to look into her eyes, and she nodded lightly.

"Yeah," she said, "I think so..."

He swallowed, ignoring the wetness on his cheeks, searching her features. "You were a little shaky for a while there..."

She met his eyes with a dry look. "Logan... I was out of my tree."

He nodded, clenching his jaw. "I was worried."

"Yeah," she said, gloved hand scruffing the hair behind his ear, "I know. I saw."

Uncertainty splashed his features then, and he looked up to her. "I'm sorry, Marie."

She frowned at him in confusion. "What for?"

"If I'd handled that bitch better, I swear I could've--"

His heart clenched slowly as her eyelids fluttered, her fingertips settling to his chest as she shook her head.

"No, no Logan," she said, "No... no blame. We're X-Men, this is our life. It's our life."

Her gentle words were barely any consolation, not when he could see the scars this ordeal had left in her soul. Her eyes were tainted. He sighed, sinking his head into his hands, feeling a shake from the lack of food. It bit at him, feeling weak like that, feeling helpless now.

"I just wish I could have helped you. I said I'd protect you, and I didn't. I didn't keep my promise."

Gloved fingers slid down his face, lifting his face up gently.

"You tried," she said, "And you never left me. That's protection enough for me."

"You still got hurt," he mumbled, "In ways that are too hard to fix."

He could see her tensing up, and he didn't want this. He didn't want her upset or angry when she should have been sleeping and calm, resting. She narrowed her eyes delicately.

"What're you sayin'?"

He looked up at her, wringing his hands together.

"I don't think you should go on any missions anymore Marie."

"Logan--"

"No," he said, cutting her off, "I didn't intend for you to go out there, suckin' up the minds of every loser jerk with the Brotherhood, you got that? The only reason I wanted you on the team yesterday is because you're all we have against Magneto."

Every word that fell out seemed to cut at Marie more because at every word she recoiled a little, winced, anger drawing her brows down. She said nothing, and he wasn't sure whether it was upset or anger that made her so silent.

"I can't let you get hurt again," he said, "Not because of me."

She just smiled then, resting back in the bed, gazing up at the ceiling. "Always lookin' out for me is my Logan."

He watched her. He wasn't sure if it was Carol that seized her, making her say such a thing, or whether the experience pulled out a dry sliver of humour from within her. It wasn't unsuited to her, merely unexpected. He just shifted, looking up at her.

"And how do you feel about that?"

Blinking, she met his gaze, and she sent a smile in his direction. "Does it matter? We both know that you're lookin' out for me, whether I want you to 'r not."

"It does matter," he said finally, letting a tiny smile tease the corners of his mouth, "And yeah... I can't help but keep an eye out for you. Need someone there in the afternoons to make my room all cozy."

She smiled drily, "I'll be there with muffins and jam."

A sudden thump interrupted her lazy smile, and when the door to the observation room burst open, it only served to widen it. Jean strode in, the lines of stress that had been on her features over the past few days lifted, auburn hair billowing about her as she plugged her stethoscope into her ears.

"The Professor just told me," she said, her voice a huff from her rushing, "It's good to see you awake."

"I'll say," Logan agreed, squeezing Rogue's hand.

It was at that moment Rogue squeezed back.

"AAH!" Logan bent, half-sliding off the bed as the pain ripped through him and he grabbed the wrist of his other hand. Rogue had dropped the hand and she wriggled, fear and horror twisting her usually light features.

"Logan!! Oh mah God!"

Logan winced, holding up his hand, "It's okay Kid, it's okay... ya just bruised me... a lot... ow..."

Jean held the hand, turning it over and pressing at the flesh.

"Bruising yes," she said, "Deep bruising, bone dislocation. Logan, come with me, you're going to have to get these reset."

Logan groaned, the lady doctor pulling him up from the bed and towards the infirmary. He looked to Rogue, the girl's arms wrapped around her knees in an upright foetal position. Her eyes were on him, round and full.

"I'm sorry, Logan," she breathed.

"Not your fault, kid," he said before Jean dragged him out of the door.

Jean dug through cupboards, and for a moment Logan felt like she didn't even know he was in the room. Were he in less pain he could have enjoyed the way her hair looked in the cool light of the room, soft and liquid, but all he wanted was relief from the crushing aches in his right hand.

"It'll heal in a minute," he said, "I don't know why you're bothering..."

Jean eyed him as she placed bandages and ice down next to him on the examination table he sat on.

"The swelling still needs to be controlled," she said, grabbing the cold packs and pressing them to his hands. She looked up at him as he hissed, the cold biting him. He could see a slight tension in her features, but no puzzlement, not the wild confusion he was feeling as to how the hell this happened. He leant forward.

"You know somethin' about Marie? That you're not tellin' me?"

She glanced up at him and shrugged, "It's only a theory."

"Then spill it. How the hell did she do this?" He nudged his injured hand up.

Jean pulled the ice pack away, beginning at bandaging the hand, and as she applied the stretchy material, long lashes blinking, she spoke.

"You know what happened when she absorbed Magneto's energy."

"Yeah."

"It took two days for that to wear off, Logan. Two days for his mutation to fade in her body's energy patterns."

He frowned, "What about my mutation?"

"Thankfully," said Jean, "She never exhibited any evidence of subdermal claw formations in her forearms... maybe your mutation wasn't around long enough for them to grow, I don't know. Your personality stayed with her though, for just as many days. You mentioned that this mutant-"

"Carol," Logan said, "Marie said her name was Carol."

"Carol," amended Jean, "Was unusually strong-"

Horror fell through Logan, the pain subsiding slowly and forgotten, his only worry now the well being of the girl in the other room. "You're not saying she's got the powers for keeps are you?"

Jean opened her mouth but a snort from Logan kept her silent.

"You mean she has to get used to a new set of powers all over again? Like she doesn't have enough on her fucking plate?"

Jean sighed, "We can't be certain till I do more tests-"

"This is all my fucking fault," he grumbled, jumping up and pacing. "All my fucking fault, cause all I wanted to do was get back at that bastard Magneto and Rogue was the only way to do it and I was too fucking pissed to see that it'd just get her hurt again!" He swiped at a stack of freshly sterilized test tubes by the sink, the lot of them smashing on the floor. Jean flinched as the tinkling smash resonated through the room, her lips tensing.

"Logan, she's alive and well," Jean said, "And for now it seems she's fine."

"She just had four days having her head read Jean," Logan said, "That doesn't seem anything like 'fine' to me."

"Logan!"

The plaintive cry, soft and almost mewling, halted the roaring anger that was bursting from him. He blinked, and as if looking at the woman for the first time, he realised Jean was withdrawn, arms crossed, face firm with defense. Turning, he met the brown eyes of a weak looking Marie, leaning in the doorway and pursing her lips at him.

"Don't be mad."

Logan breathed evenly, nostrils flaring, his hands fisting at his sides.

"Ah told you, it's not your fault."

He glared at her for a long moment, and could almost see that innocence in her, the reservoir of it that was left under the cognitive swaths of Erik Lenscherr, of Carolyn Danvers - of himself. He sighed, shaking his head.

"Yeah, but you were my responsibility."

He could hear her sigh, the girl looking down at her naked hands that peeked from the flannel sleeves of her rumpled nightgown. Looking down like that, lips soft, eyes averted, she looked impossibly young. Then she looked up at him, met his harried gaze. There was a strange yawning in his chest as he saw the calm, the pain, and the wisdom there. It was as if, during the touching of minds, Rogue took in some of the ageless Professor's wisdom and made it her own.

"Ah'm okay," she said softly, "Please... don't feel bad anymore, not for me."

The words lifted the anger from Logan's features and slumping a little, he shook his head. "I can't help it."

Rogue blinked slowly, looking away. Jean stepped forward, wrapping long fingers around Rogue's flannel veiled elbow and pulled her towards the examination table.

"We're gonna finish this exam," she said with a small smile, "Up on the table."

Before she could pull herself up, Logan's hands were at her sides, depositing her on top of it. Marie blushed at him.

"I could've done it myself."

It was now the older man's turn to grow rosy in the cheeks. "Sorry."

Taking Logan's place in front of Rogue with a patient smile, Jean pressed the flat of the stethoscope to Rogue's chest. She pressed it here and there, asking her to cough. Whilst Jean fussed over Rogue, the girl watched Logan. He stood with arms crossed, face drawn, concern and concentration etched on his hawk-like features. She smiled softly at him as he glanced to her face, and he nodded back. Her affection didn't quell his worry. Jean's examining lasted a good ten minutes, and after finishing, she put her face in her hands, a wrinkle of thought on her brow.

"Well?" Logan asked.

"Everything seems perfectly normal," she said, "But I'll need to take more tests. I'll have them set up for tomorrow - um-" Tapping her lip, Jean looked to Rogue, "I think it's best if you stay here for more observa-"

Grabbing Rogue's hand, Logan growled.

"No!"

Rogue jumped a little, blinking.

"She's had enough time in that room," Logan said, pulling her from the table and to him, "I think it's time she got to sleep in her own damned bed!"

Tilting her head, she looked to Jean.

"He's right," she said, "I just wanna sleep in a bed that doesn't bend in the middle."

Sighing, Jean nodded.

"Fine," She looked to Rogue, "But be back here at four tomorrow. I should have everything ready by that time."

Gathering her up in his arms, Logan pulled Rogue off the examination table, shepherding her towards the door. Logan didn't want to focus on Jean's worry, or even what could possibly wrong with Rogue. All there was was Rogue, walking, alert, if not a little drowsy, and a bedroom to take her to.

They stood in the elevator to the mansion levels, the blue shiny walls muffling their words.

"You're tired..."

Large brown eyes blink slowly. "Yeah."

"It's - shit. It's 11:30. I'm gettin' you to bed."

Rogue gave him a weathered knowing look. If she had more energy, she'd probably have bothered to get offended at his mothering of her, but right now she needed a hand.

"You been sleepin' for days," Logan said, the edge of worry in his voice, "Why you so tired?"

Her eyes rolled around under their lids, and she wavered a little.

"My body slept," she said, "My mind didn't. I'm exhausted, Logan."

With a crease of worry in his brow, Logan pulled her to him wordlessly, cradling her head in the centre of his chest, his chin resting on the top of her head. "You'll be sleepin' soon."

Without much incident they reached the large corridor of the dormitory wing, Rogue's bedroom one way and Logan's another. As they grew closer to Rogue's shared room, Logan could see her lips tense, feel her hands clench tighter around his. She glanced to him with implore, a quiet askance in her features, a resistance as she looked towards her room. He didn't have to be psychic to see she didn't want to go there.

"You okay, Kid?"

She sighed softly, tilting her head, squeezing his hand hers -gently this time.

"Logan," she breathed, "Ah don't wanna be alone."

He pointed towards her room. "Well - you got your friends-"

"No," she said, "No I - I don't want to be alone with my thoughts. Not yet."

Logan nodded silently, pulling Rogue to him, turning around and heading for his room.

"You can stay a little while," he said, "Till you get sleepy. Then you gotta go in your own room, ‘kay?"

She nodded back at him, wrapping herself around his arm. "Thank you."

He gave her a long look, a quirk of a smile in the corner of his mouth. "Don't worry about it."

Guiding her in, he flicked on lamp on his side-table, gorging himself on the sensations of Rogue being up and about - her smell, the sound of her moving, sensing her body and its heat in the room. Glancing at her, he caught her roaming brown eyes, something new and haunting in there as she looked back at him. It scared him a little, but something in him knew it was for the better. She looked older than before, as if she knew something she didn't earlier. He shoved thoughts of this away, pulling back the blankets on his bed and fluffing the pillow roughly.

"Get in."

Without a word, Rogue stepped over, still dressed in her nightshirt and leggings. "Logan..."

He stared at her expectantly.

"Ah really need a shower."

His face fell. Crap. He'd forgotten about that.

"You can use mine," he said, "I'll get your things from your room."

"They're in the infirmary..."

Looking back at her he nodded. "Right. Be right back."

The trip to get the bathing supplies was uneventful, if not educational. Strawberry soap, mango shampoo. White musk bath salts... no wonder she always smelt so damned good. Upon entering his room, he saw the curled up figure of Rogue on his bed, clothed in soft flannel, her hair tumbling around her, long eyelashes curled upon pale cheeks. Pursing his lips together, he shuffled on the spot, debating whether to disturb her or not. She looked so relaxed, so content. Gripping her bath things, he walked over to the bed, nudging her side.

"Uh... kid?"

With a little moan she smiled, rolling onto her back. "Your bed is comfier than mine."

It was moments like this he wanted to hug her and not stop. That was the sort of girly thing Ice-boy would probably do, however, so instead he waggled the pretty bag he had filled with her supplies.

She opened her eyes a crack, and sighed. "Thank you."

She grabbed them, and with a sleepy waddle, traipsed into his bathroom.

Logan took that moment to fall back on his bed, gazing at the ceiling. Stunned. That's all he could say about how he felt. Totally stunned. Bringing his previously injured hand up, he flexed the fingers, curling and uncurling them, turning the palm over and gazing at the back of it. He couldn't tell it was ever out of shape. He dropped his hand to the bed, sighing, the stress of the past few days releasing itself into his system, washing over him, and he could feel his hands shuddering against his face.

He had to keep telling himself - she was okay now, she was okay. She was in his shower, up and about, seemingly fine.

A whiff of strawberry soap wafted under the bathroom door, the delicious scent of clean wet skin mingling with it. He clenched his teeth, battling the raging drive within him to take a glimpse of the creamy, gleaming flesh hidden in the shower cubicle, or even sample it.

He had to stop himself from whimpering when the smell of mango shampoo joined the cocktail of alluring scents. No, no, he thought to himself, nothing smells better than a wet Marie. Realising what he'd just said to himself, he buried his head under a pillow, growling quietly. Life was far too complicated these days. Far far too complicated. Things were easier on his own. Fight or die, that was it.

Then again, life on the road kinda sucked ass.

The door to the ensuite opened, and he heard the soft padding of damp feet cross the carpeted floor, the stronger wafting of damp skin and perfume curling around his senses, and a gentle nudge touched his shoulder.

"Logan?"

Her voice was as smooth and delicious as she smelt. He grunted from under the pillow, and he could hear her laugh softly.

"Ah just have to get changed into some fresh jammies. Ah'll be raght back."

He nodded, and growled an "Okay."

For a few blessed moments her smell and presence didn't torment him. She needed him though, she needed him. He would put away his overgrown super-strength hormones for one night, cause his girl needed him. He nodded resolutely. He pulled his head out from under his pillow, placing it back, puffing it with a stiff whack. It was as he did that that he heard his door open and close, and turning his head he felt his throat catch.

She wasn't dressed in anything special. Just a lilac set of pyjamas, first couple of buttons on the top shirt undone, gloves on her hands, socks on her feet. Her hair was damp, in straggly clumps, the platinum bolts a muted silver now, all of it pulled back from her face with a small hair clip. The thing that clutched his heart tightly was the way the flannel sat on her body, loose as it was. By all rights she should have looked twelve in that get up.

Oh, how she *didn't* look twelve. How very much her eighteen years she appeared, curves and delicious damp skin wrapped in soft cuddly pyjamas. She plodded over to him in a secure gait, smiling briefly before sitting down on the edge of the bed. She seemed a little nervous but even in her most uncertain of moments she acted in confidence, as if it were a method of dealing with such a thing.

He watched her trace circles on her own knee, humming to herself lightly. With an affectionate narrowing of his eyes, he propped his arms on his knees, leaning over to her.

"That mean you're feeling better?"

She glanced to him, shrugging.

"Ah dunno," she said. "Ah feel - nearly normal. Nearly just -normal. Not great, not bad. Just existing."

Logan frowned.

"I never felt like this before. Then again I never had a psychopath in my head before." She seemed to smile at this, humour in her tone. He wished he could laugh with her. "It's weird," she said, tilting her head, "I never been so relieved to be on the under side of bored before."

A wrinkle sank in Logan's brow. "You're bored?"

"Kinda," she said, "It's hard to explain. I was so empty, so dead inside for all that time and now... now I just feel like I can't see anything wrong with my life - and I should. But I don't. I feel listless."

The wrinkle deepened, and with some tentativeness, he reached out, enfolding one of her hands in his. "I want you to feel happy, Marie."

Her long-lashed eyes looked to their linked hands, and then sliding up his arm they met his own orbs. "Ah know," she said softly, "And I will."

He gave a tick of a smile, and nodded. At that she gently squeezed his hand, a little smile on her face.

"Especially if ya keep this kind of attention up. I feel like a Queen! All coddled and looked after!"

With a smirk he grabbed her, pulling her down onto the bed, towards the pillows. She squealed, giggling and wriggling her legs, and with a singular sweep of his arm he pulled the comforter from his bed out from underneath her. He covered her then, tucking in the sides of the blanket as he leant over her, trying to ignore the proximity of her face, her lips, or the way her eyes roamed his features in soft appreciation.

"You are good to me, Logan."

He nodded, sitting up a little. "Yeah, well - I care about ya."

She nodded, still looking at him in that way that made him feel all warm and cuddly inside. Only Marie could do that, only Marie.

"Come on," he said, thumping the side of the bed and rolling over to lay next to her on the bed, "You relax some now, that's why yer here."

She nodded silently again, and she sat up, pulling the clip from her hair. Logan lay on top of all the blankets, arms crossed, sock clad feet crossed at the foot of the bed. He was quite prepared to not get comfortable, not get too into this sharing a room thing, and once she got drowsy, he was prepared also to march her to her room and get her into her own bed.

The woman stretched, and once she'd sorted out her hair, adjusted her jammies, she pulled the blanket up, over Logan's shoulder and snuggled to his side, just as she pleased. Logan blinked, watching the girl get comfortable against him, one of her hands curling around his elbow. She sighed contentedly, face buried at his shoulder, her breathing slowly growing steadier. It both troubled and touched him that she felt so seemingly secure and at home by his side when he'd done such harm to her before in this very room, though he was slowly feeling that nothing Marie did or felt should surprise him anymore.

He tried very hard not to begin to feel comfortable in the bed. He even made an effort to be grumpy and grumbly about the whole affair, but upon seeing Rogue so content and rested for the first time in days, he knew that moving the poor thing would be a crime.

Then again, so would falling asleep in the bed with her.

Carefully sliding out from under her, he sank down onto the floor, resting his back against the side of the bed, just for a light snooze.

---

The room was dark, a single lamp reflecting off the whitewashed walls and lighting their faces gently. They sat on either side of the bed, gazing at each other. There was no hate in their eyes, no anger. There was nothing.

The blonde had intoxicating lips that were painted ruby-red, gleaming in the diffuse light of the room. Her eyes, swept up and sharp, were heavily lashed and deep. Her smile was small, knowing, and her hair tumbled down around her shoulders, almost as liquid gold.

The mahogany and champagne tressed girl gazed back at the blonde one. Her deep brown eyes were not as heavily lashed, though they were as weighted and dewy. Her lips were chiseled, unlike her counterpart's fuller mouth, and her face was rounder and softer. From the nothing her expression was grew one of compassion, and she brought her naked hand forward, covering that of the woman's in front of her. Skin upon skin, flesh upon flesh. No energy changed bodies - they were one now. When Carol spoke, her voice was like honey, like lilies and the gentlest of silks. It was low, melodious, and warm. Even as she spoke words of conflict, she intoned them with tenderness.

"You want to fight me," said Carol. "I can feel it. You can't fool a warrior with kindness."

Rogue frowned. "I'm not a warrior."

"You are," Carol said. "It lives in you. Your heart burns with the fire of justice. We want it just as much, you and I. Unlike you, I was willing to kill."

Rogue shook her head. "You don't have to kill."

Carol's look dropped to her lap, to the hand that covered hers. "You've been fortunate, Marie. You found people that cared before Death touched you." Carol shook her head slowly, those knowing jeweled eyes gazing back at her. "I didn't." She blinked slowly, languidly, gazing up to the ceiling. "I found Erik, and Erik promised me an end. End to the pain, end to the fear." Her voice slipped into a tone of poisonous edge. "He told me I wouldn't have to be afraid of humanity any more. With him, I was better than they ever would be. I was nature's perfection." She glanced down, shaking her head, the poison spent. "I was too filled with bitterness and the need to revenge to know the difference."

"It's not your fault," said Rogue. "You didn't know there could be another way."

Carol let her eyes meet Rogue's. Rogue took her hand away, looking at the rumples in the sheet on the perfectly made bed on which they sat cross-legged. "You tried to destroy me," she said. "From the inside out… you wanted to hurt the Logan in me, and then you wanted to take my body from me."

Carol's eyelids dropped a little, and she looked guilty. "I was angry… I was frightened. I was inside someone else… alive… moving and yet-" She frowned. "I don't know what to do, Marie. I'm dead, I can't change this. When I was alive, I had something and I didn't know how precious it was." Her eyes grew a little red, welling with tears. "When our minds touched… I was so angry. Nobody told me that it could be like that, like it is here… for people like us."

Rogue's eyes shot to Carol's.

"I understood you," said Carol, a childlike uneasiness on her face. "I saw what this place was about. I'm still angry, Marie. Still angry at humanity but..." She sighed, shaking her head. "Now that I know that they didn't understand either, it makes all that I did so wrong."

Rogue nodded, placing her hands on her knees, a soft puzzlement on her sweet face. "What are we going to do?"

Shaking her head again, sadness in her beautiful features, Carol looked away. "I don't know."

Rogue looked to the woman before her. For the first time, in the days and hours of her battling her, she didn't feel hate when she looked to her. She felt sadness, and a need to help her. Her heart went out, and she knew what had to be done. She took Carol's hands in her own, holding them tightly.

"I do."

When consciousness embraced her, she wasn't tired. In fact, she felt bright and awake, just aching to leap up out of bed. The mornings were kind to her when she got all the sleep she needed, and in the recent days she got all she wanted. She hadn't opened her eyes yet. She was wallowing in that uncertain haze of waking, letting her senses join her one at a time.

Touch... her flannel pyjamas, the soft cotton pillow cover against her face, a wide bed. Wide bed...

Smell... A familiar scent as she breathed in, a spicy delicious smell of shampoo - men's shampoo. She rubbed her face in the pillow, devouring the softness and the smell. Oh she liked that.

Where was she, where was she? Smell, touch...

Sound... A light snoring, as if a large cat were asleep in the room, a rough snuffle to it.

It fell in her mind and a knowing that it just took a moment to remember claimed her. Yes, she was in Logan's room. She smiled at that, writhing in the bed a moment, just enjoying the sensations around her that were all a part of Logan's life too. His bed... his pillow... his smell... his breathing. She felt safe here. So safe, so happy, content.

Finally she opened her eyes, and looking next to her on the bed, she saw she was alone. Alone? Then who was breathing?

Rubbing the corners of her eyes, she slid over the other side of the bed, sticking her head over the edge.

Logan was stretched out on the floor, limbs like a big star, his head tilted back and jaw hanging a little open. She tilted her head, watching him sleep, amused that he was still fully clothed. The amusement soon waned as she realised he'd slept on the floor that evening, no blanket, no pillow. With a frown she pulled the blanket from the bed, and she slid down off the bed and down next to the sleeping man. She dragged the blanket over him, covering him well, and grabbing a pillow she tilted her head.

How was she going to get that under his head?

Pressing her lips together, she gripped the pillow. She wanted so badly to put the pillow under his head, but she knew he had those instincts of his, those waking nightmares. Clenching her teeth, she leant forward, wedging her glove-covered fingers under his neck, sliding them up the back of his scalp, lifting his head gently.

She pursed her lips together, trying not to laugh. When he wasn't having a nightmare, perhaps when he knew it was her moving him... he was as floppy as a sleeping tabby. She let his head fall back onto the pillow, and he ticked a nostril, sniffling. She smiled, patting the blanket around him, satisfaction welling within her and comforting her regret that the poor man had spent the night on the floor.

A small lick of his fringe sat against his eye, and she frowned. Leaning forward, she drew it away from his face with a careful fingertip. She wasn't as careful as she wanted to be, because she brushed his brow, and it twitched down.

Hands slid around her suddenly, roving, checking, and she blushed wildly.

Oh... *dear*.

After having a good feel around as to what was against him, he grunted in approval. Poor Rogue didn't know whether to laugh or swoon.

She opted for keeping still, just watching his satisfaction as he embraced her, the slight upwards curve of the corners of his mouth, the lightness in the lines around his closed eyes. She wondered if it was her that made him smile so, or just the fact that she was a female body against him so early in the morning.

So she hummed, a little sweet tune that made itself up as she went along, dragging slivers of his hair away from his face. She battled the smile on her features, and a part of her was in a delightful slice of heaven. He grunted, shifted his head, and his hand came up and seized hers. He didn't open his eyes, just massaged the hand in his, taking a long breath in, and gave a squeeze of the flesh that happened to be in his other hand. He didn't know he was clutching Rogue's behind.

Rogue knew. She blushed, looking away, dying and swooning all at once.

The hazel eyes snapped open, and glancing to her he frowned.

"What are you doing?"

She looked back at him, raising her brows. What was *she* doing?

"Ah just gave you a blanket and pillow to make you more comfortable. You were the one that made yerself at home."

Logan looked around her to see where his hand sat. His eyes widened with a mix of horror and embarrassment, and he slid away, red tingeing his cheeks.

"Geez, I'm sorry, Kid..."

She just smirked, the blanket still around her as Logan leapt to his feet.

"That's okay, it's not every day I get that sort of treatment."

He narrowed his eyes at her, pressing his lips together. He didn't really need to say anything, the look said it all. He said something anyway.

"You know you're a flirt?" he said, turning and striding over to his wardrobe.

Rogue smiled, "Oh I know it."

Logan grabbed a few articles of clothing and made for his bathroom, eyeing Rogue as he went.

"I'm gonna shower, then I'm gonna eat. You're free to wait for me."

She nodded, "I'll get changed and come back n' wait."

Logan kept his eyes on her for a moment longer, a little smile gracing his features. Rogue was sat on his bed, looking wide-eyed and hungry. That hungry look had his blood a little hot in his veins. Damn it all. Okay - he was going to shower. And she could smell *his* shampooed wet body through the damned door.

---

Upon exiting the ensuite Rogue was quite composed and relaxed, lying on his bed and reading one of his motorcycle magazines. Okay, maybe he didn't affect her as much as he thought he did. Not that he was supposed to *care* if he affected her or not! Oh God, he groaned in his mind, This isn't right, this isn't right.

He tipped his head towards the door, and Rogue pulled herself up to her feet smoothly, smiling a little after straightening out her purply-red long-sleeved top.

"Ya hungry?" he said, waiting by the open door as Rogue joined him.

"Gee, how couldya tell?"

Logan just smirked, "You got that look in your eye."

He closed the door behind them and they made their way to the mess hall.

"What kinda look is that?"

He glanced back at her. "That you'd devour a omelet at 30 paces."

She tipped her head, "Ah dunno, I could really go for a sausage about now."

He coughed, disbelief seizing his chest, and he shook his head.

"Okay, I don't think I wanna know where you got that sense of humour from but it's really inappropriate."

"You like it," she said smoothly.

He smirked, "That's not the point."

She gave a silky chuckle and went around the corner of the corridor, striding into the mess hall. All heads, strangely coloured or not, lifted as she breezed into the room. Kitty and Jubilee squealed, falling over themselves to get up to their feet and over to her.

"Baby!" Jubilee wailed, finally getting her balance and racing over to Rogue.

Kitty was close behind, and Rogue staggered as the girls launched themselves into her arms. Tears were in the girls' eyes, Jubilee huffing and cradling Rogue's face with grey-gloved hands.

"I was so worried about you!" Jubilee mumbled, "I couldn't sleep!"

"Ah came to get some stuff last night," Rogue said with a weary smile. "You guys were asleep, you missed me."

"You should have woken us!" Kitty said, her eyes overflowing with tears. "We were terrified that you would be in that stupid room forever!"

She whimpered and hugged Rogue tightly, Jubilee hugging her too.

"We love you so much," Jubilee said, "Don't scare us like that again!"

"Ah'll try not to," Rogue said, an overwhelmed smile on her features.

Logan watched the scene with a strange rush of happiness, envy and pride. Marie was lucky that they all cared about her so much. The way she bonded with those girls was special, he could tell that. Not everyone could boast such a companionship, and he knew that Rogue would be lucky enough to always have that. Logan knew that a good portion of the adult population in the school didn't care what the hell happened to him, and the other portion was female. Didn't take a scientist to know what their interests in him were.

He was as relieved as those girls at Marie's improved condition, cause unlike them, she was all he had.

He felt a little strong hand drag him towards a table, and he kept quiet as Marie sat him down at the table with her girlfriends. Had he a choice he wouldn't sit there.

Today he'd give the kid a break. Just today.

Rogue had taken to dragging him about the place, and he didn't mind. It seemed her mood was improving, and as he watched her he noticed her testing the new personality attributes that had made themselves at home in her psyche. Not that they were bad, or that they were unwelcome, they were new. New, but seemingly at home in this woman's personality. When he questioned Rogue about it, she said that they were things about Carol that she liked, and wanted to encourage in herself but never had the guts to.

"There are things about Carol you like?"

She nodded, holding his hand, pulling him out into the garden from the kitchen back door.

"Rogue, she was a psychopath."

The relaxed look on Rogue's face fluttered, and she shrugged.

"She had a hard past, Logan. So did Magneto. I'm not particularly in love with either of them, but if I don't accept them for who they were, and encourage their positive aspects in my personality - I'll never be happy. You know? I can't try to reject them from my psyche, cause if I do that, I'll go crazy."

It sounded all too familiar. Not that he had other psyches within him, but that raging animal inside that he always seemed to be at odds with clutched onto those words. Heed her wisdom, it said. Understand my strength.

Go to hell, he replied, and pulled out a cigar from his jacket. He took his hand from Rogue's, digging for his lighter, watching Rogue wander down the path ahead of him. Rose bushes filled the garden either side of her, and she smiled softly at the different shades of the blooms. Drawing her hand out of a glove, she let her hands brush over the flowers lightly, not long enough to cause them any damage. Her frivolity encompassed her, robbing her of mindfulness, and as she took a step to move further down the path her toe caught on a dislodged tile in the pavement.

She staggered, her second step failing her. Logan jumped forward to catch her, and as his lighter clattered to the floor his hands grasped for air.

Rogue's large brown eyes widened as she fell without help, and her hands clawed for air.

And stopped. She stopped. She hung in the air at a bizarre angle, as if the whole thing were a video, and someone pressed pause. Logan looked around, to see if Jean had stopped her from falling.

No, no Jean.

He peered back at Rogue, gazing at her in wonder. The floating woman gasped, joy splashing on her face.

"Logan... Logan, I'm flyin'!"

"No shit," he rasped, "How the hell are you doin' that?"

With a crease of concentration in her brow, she brought herself up, and stretching her arms up into the air she frowned with an effort, and he could see it in her eyes, willing herself onward and upward. She slowly lifted upward a moment, till she was a couple of feet up off of the ground.

"Carol's powers," she mumbled back.

Then she made the mistake of looking down, thinking on what she'd done.

Her body grew limp and she tumbled down, Logan jumping forward to catch her properly this time. He did, and the weight of the girl dropping on him toppled him to the ground.

---

Jean wasn't sure what part of "Meet me tomorrow at four o'clock" Rogue didn't understand, but the empty lab and the total lack of young silver and brown haired girl had her stomach clenching in her chest and making preparations to do the Heimlich from the inside out.

She strode down the main hallway of the school, abandoning the lab in urgent worry. The kids eyed her with curiosity, and concern, and she let the spidery fingers of her mind reach out, slowly, carefully. She touched their minds... she didn't feel the deep colourful rich pools of personality like she knew the Professor saw, rather flashing glimpses, identifying emotions and images that let her know who she was looking for. She could only gain depth with other telepaths, which is why she was surprised when she hit upon Rogue's mind and fell into it like one misjudged the depth of a puddle.

~Rogue? What on earth...?~

~Hey Sugah,~ the young woman's mind said, sounding far, far too old. ~You lookin' for me?~

~Yes! Everywhere! Where are you?~

~Earnin' my wings, baby. Earnin' my wings.~

Jean pressed her lips together and with her inner hunches lurching inside of her she made for the gymnasium. Upon getting there, the sight that greeted her ran her blood cold, fear growing in her chest.

Mid-air, without any support or suspension hung Rogue, arms lax in the air like a ballet dancer's. Her legs dangled in a similarly delicate position, her body curving in a way that would have all the sculptors and painters running for their pencils and equipment to capture the graceful impossible moment.

"Rogue!"

She ran forward, shaking her head.

The girl floated in the middle of the gymnasium, the paneled polished pine flooring below her padded with large crash mats reserved for the high-jumping facilities. Upon seeing the panicking Jean, Rogue just giggled and willowed backwards as if she were fooling about in a swimming pool.

"Come on up, Jean!" she grinned, "The air's fine!"

Logan looked up at the girl, his face unreadable, but his arms twitching on occasion.

"What the hell are you thinking Logan," she said, "Letting her do this - she could get herself killed!"

Logan snorted. "Yeah, like I could stop her."

Confusion flickered over Jean's features, and it dawned on her. Not only did she have impossible flying abilities, but impossible strength. Dangerous, far too dangerous to be in a young fragmented mind like Rogue's.

Rogue eyed Jean a moment, as if seeing that thought, and petulantly she tried a dive. With delicate ease she plunged down to the ground then, as if changing her mind, swung up into the air, up, touching the ceiling, then floating down carefully like a pill dissolving in water.

"I think I like this," Rogue said with a small grin.

Logan just shook his head, stuffing his hands farther into his pockets.

"She has to get down," Jean said, "We have to work with her new powers slowly, so that-"

"So that what?" Logan asked, eyes narrowing. "What you so scared of Jean?"

Jean swallowed, caution overflowing in her brown eyes. "I'm worried she - with accessing the new powers that she-"

There was a soft rush of air, and turning around Jean saw Rogue glide through the air towards her, hurt resounding in the large brown orbs. She staggered as her feet met the crash-mat, and tripping and trying to sort out her tangle of limbs she pulled herself from the safety precaution, her lips tensing in quiet exasperation. Straightening her shirt she strode over to Jean, trying to regain the air of elegance and coordination she had in the air not a moment ago but sadly failing.

"You're scared a' me," she said, hugging her arms to herself. Logan eyed Jean sharply.

"Are ya?"

"No," Jean shook her head, "No Rogue, it's not that, we just - we don't know the effect of your accessing the stored memories-"

"I'm not," Rogue said, firmly, reasonably. Her controlled ease made Jean feel all the more uncomfortable in the current situation. "I'm not accessing them. Look, I'm having my daily counseling with the Professor," she said, "And I'm not sick anymore. This, this..." She lifted her hands, pulling her gloved fingers closed into light fists and then slowly uncurling them again, eyeing the movements as if she'd never seen her hands do this before. "These powers they..." She straightened. "Ah could do good things with them, Jeannie." She swallowed, eyes to the brim with emotion. "I'm not useless anymore."

Jean frowned. Useless? She thought she was useless? "Rogue..."

"I feel good," she said, interrupting her again. "For the first time in... well..." She let out a shuddering breath. "Please, let me enjoy something in my life. Just something."

Closing her eyes, the plaintive tone of the girl in front of her was not lost on her. She placed her hand on the girl's shoulders, squeezing them lightly before meeting her large brown eyes. "Does it have to be this?"

Rogue swallowed, chiseled lips twitching. "What else do I have?"

---

Rogue agreed to go with Jean to the lab, but not without needing a lot of convincing to come down after she launched herself into the air. The air was light, the air was defeated, the air was a new friend. It pulled back her hair as she soared, whistled around her body, handed her freedom on a silver platter. What freedom, she wasn't sure, but during her whole time with Carolyn within her she had felt robbed, sullied, violated somehow. The moment she woke from her deep sleep spent with Xavier she knew something had changed, shifted, even subconsciously. It wasn't till she had tripped and floated that she could put a finger on what it was... control. For the first time in days, she felt like she could have control of something. That something was her powers - her new powers. She could put her fist through a 2ft thick wall and the next moment she could run her fingers through her hair lightly, hug Jubilee without a touch of harm coming to her.

No helplessness as energy seeped from bodies, no tears and no weakness. Just strength... a fuckload of strength.

Jean led her to the lab, a plethora of instruments laid out on a trolley. Oh yay, Rogue thought, I get to be a pincushion for an hour. The lady doctor smiled, patting the examination table. With some apprehension, Rogue traipsed over, pulling herself up onto the table.

"How many needles ya stickin' into me today, Doc?"

Jean looked to her, hazel eyes flashing at the girl's Loganesque turn of phrase. She smiled shortly. "Enough to figure out what's happened to you, Rogue." She let her eyes settle back to the syringe in her hands that she prepared primly. "Roll up your sleeve." Rogue complied, and taking the girl's naked arm with a latex-gloved hand she pressed the needle to her skin.

And pressed. And pressed. She frowned, pushing hard. The skin may as well have been leather. Jean's lips tightened, her brows knitting.

Rogue just gawped at her skin, eyes glistening with a touch of fear. "Wh-" She gulped. "What's happened to me, Jean?"

Jean shrugged, gulping herself. "I don't know, Rogue... I..." She sighed, handing the needle to Rogue. "Here - you see that vein?"

Rogue licked her lips, "You want me to stick it in there?"

Jean nodded. "I can't. The skin it's - "

"Too strong," Rogue supplied, and taking the syringe she pressed it to her skin. There was a sickening give, and Rogue twisted her lips, wincing. The needle had bent. She looked to Jean with glistening eyes. "What does this mean?"

Jean sighed, propping her hands onto her hips. "For me? I'm going to need stronger needles. For you? We'll do the tests we can today, and tomorrow I'll make some calls about getting some better needles."

Rogue nodded, sighing and pulling down her sleeve. "Ah'm sorry."

Jean's brow creased a touch as she frowned lightly at the younger woman. "What for?"

Rogue looked to her arm and nudged it up. "This. Me bein' different. You don't like it, Ah can see it in your eyes. Feel it even."

Jean nodded, pulling over a stool. Seriousness seeped into her usually sweet features, and she looked hard suddenly, like a matron, but worried, like a mother. "I can see how you might think that, Rogue," she said, "But it's not true."

Rogue laughed. It was a small innocent chuckle, and she shook her head without any maliciousness. "No, no. I can see it. I can feel it. Like - like a flash of colour - but with feelings. I see your eyes and I know. You don't like it."

Jean clenched her jaw a moment, then licked her lips. "Rogue... what am I thinking of now?"

Rogue frowned, her brow denting, her lips pushed out in effort. She sighed, pulling up a leg and cocking it, running a gloved finger over her full mouth in another Loganeque gesture. With a final sigh she pointed at Jean lazily.

"I have no idea," she said. Jean sank a little, looking away. All Rogue could think of was how she suddenly could smell a cigar. A nice, long smoky cigar.

"Okay. Come over here and we'll begin the tests on your cardio-vascular endurance."

Rogue nodded, stepping over to the side room equipped to the brim with machines that strained and tested every imaginable facet of the human body, and a few machines that strained and measured facets not imaginable to the human body, but perfectly conceivable for the mutant body. It was a certainty that Jean was a pioneer in her field, and probably knew more about mutant physiology than any other being alive, Hank McCoy running a close second due to the fact that he was in his last years of medical tuition. Jean led her to a simple treadmill, and opening a drawer she brought out conductive gels, wires and sticky pads that resembled large metallic nipples. Jean pointed to Rogue's top.

"Could you take that off so I can stick these onto your skin?"

Rogue shrugged and doffed her dark baby-tee. Slipping on latex gloves, Jean began the task of sticking on the electrodes. There was a quiet moment of Jean hovering around her body, fearless, relaxed, as if Rogue were any other half-clothed person. In that small moment, Rogue felt a touch of relief and thankfulness. In all of this, Jean was caring at heart. Perhaps a little too much so, like a mothering sister. The redhead smiled and hummed.

"Jean?"

"Yeah?"

"Out a' curiosity..." Jean looked up to Rogue, and she continued. "What were you thinkin' of? You know... when you asked me..."

Jean shrugged and smiled. "Oh... just a cigar."

---

She was unsure if she was scared as she waited in the observation room. It was empty, cleaned out since the last time she'd been here. The flowers were gone, and so was the vase. Jean said everything was in the laundry, so the room was stark. For some reason, it was more comforting now than it was before when it had been brimming with amenities. Maybe because now she could see it's true nature, and she felt she could deal with that. It was a cold sterile cube of a room, and the mirror in the far wall reflected her image back at her.

Her hair was long. Longer than she remembered it being. 'I need to cut it,' she mused. 'I look like a little girl.' It occurred to her she was a girl - damn her if it was months since she felt like one. The dark baby-tee she wore hugged her form, and thin bands of her pale skin stuck out from between the hems of her glove and shirt. A dark brown woolen scarf wrapped her neck, and Logan's tags dangled down on the tent her breasts created with the shirt. They glinted in the light, scratched, old, but precious. Her arms seemed thin but her body felt different. Her hips felt larger and a yearning built inside of her to dress accordingly. 'You are a woman now,' a voice said inside of her, 'Let this shine and emanate from you like the alluring scent of a rose.' It occurred to her this moment that she sometimes wished Carol would shut up. Still... a better wardrobe couldn't hurt.

Jean opened the door, the sudden 'ka-chunk' of the action shocking Rogue from her deeper thoughts. She smiled patiently at the lady-doctor, wrapping her arms around her knees.

"What's the verdict?" she said. "Am Ah a mutie freak?"

Jean sighed patiently at the self-depreciating comment and sat at the end of the bed, opening her clip-board file. "Certifiably. From my tests thus far I've been able to establish that your changes have been totally restricted to your cellular structure and brainwave activities. Your skin and body are strong, stronger than any skin mutation I've seen. You're practically indestructible." She could see the girl's large brown eyes glinting at the endless possibilities opened up by this fact. "You probably can't burn, bullets may bruise but I sincerely doubt they would pierce your skin. Your cardio-vascular endurance is at a normal level though, and without blood tests I couldn't ascertain what else is at a normal level. I'm just itching to take a skin sample and run every test on it that I can think of. You were an intriguing case before Rogue but now..." She sighed and shook her head. "Now you're truly remarkable."

Rogue hugged her knees and smirked. "So how many more bad guys do I gotta suck up before I become simply amazing?"

Jean tilted her head, sensing the dry jocularity in the girl before her, and just narrowed her eyes. "Don't even think about it. You put us all through enough heartache this past week, and I honestly don't think Logan could survive another bout of that."

Rogue smiled, a security growing within her as she understood that Logan, in some way, needed her to be okay, and that he wasn't happy otherwise. Something occurred to Rogue. She frowned at Jean. "What about my flying?"

Jean looked up. "What about it?"

"How does it work? How... how can I do it?"

"Ah," Jean nodded, "Your mind seems to be geared to generating telekinetic energy. You think 'fly', and those energies lift you. I believe this also accounts for your slight and unwitting psychic abilities."

Rogue's eyes grew wide in shock. "You're sayin' I'm psychic?"

Jean smiled slightly. "Not actively, no. When I was approaching the gymnasium today, I had an encounter with your thoughts - as if you knew I was accessing them."

"Encounter..." Rogue's brows knitted.

"A conversation," Jean nodded. "Almost."

Rogue shook her head, snorting lightly. "That's so weird."

"It might seem that way at first..."

"No," Rogue said, "No. Before you entered the gym this mornin, I was wondering what I'd say to you when you saw me flying. Maybe you just saw that in my head."

Jean eyed Rogue firmly. "You responded to me Rogue. Telepathically."

Rogue shuddered. "Then there's some part of my brain I don't have any control over."

Jean nodded, "Possibly."

"Great," scowled Rogue. "Like my body isn't doing enough without my permission!"

"If it's any consolation, telepathy and telekinesis are things that you can learn to control. All it takes is practice."

Practice... Rogue sighed. That sounded like fun. Why was it that she had the difficult powers? Sure, the others had powers which they had to learn to control, but being in the later stages of puberty and like her, verging on adulthood, they'd very much come to master them. Rogue felt like she'd never have that option.

"Come on," Jean said, "I'll take you over your specific results, then you can go stop Logan wearing a hole in the floor of the corridor outside with all his pacing."

Yes. Logan wanted to come in whilst she was examined, but Jean forbade it. It was probably wise, she had to pull off her shirt and all sorts of things. Damn it.

"Geez," smiled Rogue, following Jean into the main room of the infirmary, "Ya think I'd never had a check up before."

"I don't think Logan's had to deal with very many of them."

Rogue nodded. That was true. Very true.

---

Logan had an instinctual dislike of shiny places that smelt of disinfectant, and waiting for Rogue to have her examination was not making him any easier about having to be amongst it. Eventually the door to the Infirmary opened, and Rogue and Jean spilled out, chattering and smiling. It took a moment for Logan to catch up with the conversation, and slowly realised what it was about.

"So once the reinforced equipment comes in I can take those samples and run some tests, okay?"

"Sure," smiled Rogue. She turned and spotted Logan standing there, the expression on his face close to that of a cat at a veterinary clinic waiting for an examination. He stepped forward, arms crossed, lower jaw jutted just slightly foward as his eyes flickered in worry.

"So, she okay?"

Jean smiled reassuringly. "Of course she is Logan. It seems these powers are settling in to stay. They're only getting stronger, and thanks to them Rogue has a whole range of things she couldn't do before to look forward to."

Logan stared at the woman flatly. "Right." New range his hairy ass. She could do enough; she didn't need any more crap on her plate. He looked to Rogue, who frowned at him slightly. "You done then?"

"Yes," Jean nodded.

"Right," Logan pointed at Rogue, "Wanna go for a walk?"

Rogue nodded silently, and they strolled from the infirmary, Rogue hugging her sweater to her chest and Logan loping along with a tenseness to his lips.

"So..."

Rogue looked to him, then back to where she was going.

"New abilities, huh?"

She narrowed her eyes at him and frowned again. "Yeah. You don't like 'em do you?"

He sighed, shrugging with a long roll of his shoulders. "I dunno Kid. I worry about what they'll do to you."

"They'll protect me, Logan," she said. "I can do some good now. I can be like you guys-"

Logan sighed, rubbing his brow, "Baby, I don't want you being like us guys."

Rogue stopped, cocking a hip and a brow at him. "What?"

He stopped with her, a part of him knotting up at the anger in the girl's eyes. Great. This discussion again. He lifted her arm up by the wrist and flopped her hand about. "It doesn't matter what powers you got, Kid. Without the proper training you're vulnerable. And this," Another hand flop, "Won't help you."

Rogue ticked a lip, anger in her eyes, and she yanked her hand away roughly. Logan, not expecting the strength that came from the girl, didn't let go soon enough and thusly went careening into the wall behind her, slamming against it then staggering back, cradling his head. Rogue covered her face, brows tilting up.

"I um... I didn't mean to do that..."

"Ow..."

"Sorry..." Rogue looked around, covering her mouth with brown silk covered fingers, before planting her hands on her hips. "Logan, sugah, I don't know if you noticed or not, but this thing I'm living, called a life? It's mine."

Logan looked at her behind a bruised but clearing brow. "Ungh..."

"Yeah, sure, whatever. Simple thing is, I wanna be a part of the team, and I will be."

Standing up straight, shaking his head of the last sluggy moments of healing, he glared at her. "Why? So you can protect me? Is that it?"

Rogue smirked sadly, shaking her head and scoffing. "Sweet Jesus, the man is amazing!" She sniggered then gave him a glare of seriousness tinged with a smile. "You really believe that don't you?"

He opened his mouth but she waved a hand.

"Forget it." She strode off ahead of him.

"Where are you going?!" he cried.

"Shopping!"

She needed new clothes. She wasn't sure why, she just did. There was a flowering, yawning, waking part of herself that she'd been scared to revel in ever since her skin became poison. She could sense the other woman within her, aching and yearning that if she had to be stuck in Rogue's body, that at least Rogue do a little redecorating. Normally Rogue would have been offended at such a comment, but she knew all too well what she really wanted to do with her swelling hips and luscious curves. But my skin, she'd counter to this inner sexual predator inside of her, and this predator smiled. My dear child, she said, Whoever said that sexual allure came purely from the revealing of flesh? Besides, they make such secure and sheer garments nowadays...

Like many a woman, strong willed or weak, buxom or beanpole, she had the urge to spend money and come home with an armful of goods.

Jubilation could smell this yearn for the gathering of bounties, probably sparking some long-dead instinct that women have had from their hunting/gathering days, and she stood vigil at the front door of the mansion, satchel, purse and Mastercard in hand. She pulled Rogue up short at the door, cocking a well kempt brow.

"Hello... you're going shopping without me?"

Rogue blinked and smiled. "No, I assumed that you'd know the drill."

Out into New York they ventured, swooping down upon the best of the local malls and invading the retail distributors of fine garments and fashion accessories. They knew what they wanted to buy, and a woman that knew that had a certain air of dangerousness about her, that frivolity and carelessness could go hang. There was a very distinct list of things that she wanted, so all the perfume dispensers better get the hell out of her way.

Rogue riffled through clothes racks, lips pursed and brows knitted. "Nope, no, no, no - too light. I want dark." She abandoned that rack and descended upon another, "God what's wrong with this shop?"

"It's Old Navy," supplied Jubilee.

Rogue glanced up around her, as if noticing where she was for the first time and lifted a nostril. "Oh. Figures. Let's go."

They found shops that were darker lit and less flashy, fishnet toting mannequins wearing pleather, leather, faux snakeskin and leopard fur. The corner of Rogue's mouth turned up in a smile. "This is more like it."

Jubes lifted a brow and turned to Rogue. "Hon, you certain? I didn't think this stuff was your style."

She shrugged. "It wasn't. It is now." Striding in she eyed the shelves and racks. Flicking through the store's goods she yanked out the odd thing, draping it over her arm. Dark glittery sleeveless turtleneck. Gauzy sheer shirt - black, purple, paisley dark green. Black pleather pants. She went on like this till she had a sizeable collection of clothes. A ridiculously slender young woman edged from behind her counter, tapping the dumbbell piercing in her tongue against her front teeth nervously.

"Hey... can I help you?"

Rogue smiled. "Sure. I wanna try these on."

A few size changes and some grunting later, she piled the clothes onto the counter. Jubilee stepped up to the counter faintly, eyes stuck on the merchandise.

"Rogue... what the hell are you doing?"

Rogue shrugged, "Sharpenin' up mah look."

"You kidding?" Jubilee squeaked. "Honey - you're giving it a factory edge!"

Rogue sighed, a little wistfully. "I dunno. It's just I was the nicest girl for years and years in Mississippi, and I had no idea what the world was really like. And then when I got here, I got pushed around by Magneto, and I learnt. Knowing now what I didn't then, I couldn't bear to be what I used to be - I couldn't." She looked to the clothes and patted them. "Black widows let you know that they're dangerous."

"Hey," Jubilee pulled Rogue around, meeting here eyes. "We're the good guys, remember?"

The platinum bolt tressed girl looked to Jubilee, nodding, then giving a glance to her new wardrobe. "I'm good. I just think my look needs some tweakin'."

The assistant grinned at the purchases as the girls left, knowing that the manager would be kissing her feet on payday. Rogue and Jubilee were well on their way, on the hunt for a new shop to plunder.

One bedecked with varnished pinewood and with hiking gear in the window was across the way, and Rogue's eyes gleamed. Jubilee spun about, then cringed.

"Dude - just when you were doing so well..."

Rogue shrugged, "Well I am a Southern gal. I need some good boots anyhow." She entered the store with determination, Jubilee staggering in with the bags from the last shop behind her.

"Hello girls, can I help you?"

Rogue turned around, greeting the young male shop assistant with a gentle smile. "Sure Shoogs, I was just lookin' for a nice sturdy pair of shit-kickers."

The shop assistant stopped, blinked, grinned then nodded. "Suuure... uh - this way."

She found a nice pair in black with thick jagged soles and heels and steel toes. They were exactly what she was looking for, exactly what she needed. It was when she was paying for these beauties when she noticed a jacket that seized her, captured her and enchanted her, gave her a thrill and made her smile dreamily.

"That!" she said, pointing at it up on a display dummy on the top shelves of the woman's clothing section, "The jacket, I want it!"

The assistant turned about, spotted it and nodded. "Aah, the suede mid-brown leather duster. Nice choice."

Jubilee yanked Rogue's arm and hissed in her ear. "Babe! It's ugly and it's probably way too expensive!"

"It's not ugly. It's unique." She shrugged and sighed. "Besides, the Professor said if I needed to explore my new and growing identity, that I should go to the mall and play with my self image a little."

"Dude, I don't think he meant for you to go spend a few grand!"

"Oh please," Rogue sighed, "I've spent a few hundred. Don't exaggerate." She took the laden plastic bag from the shop assistant, took her card and her receipt from him, and made her way from the store. She looked about herself, and then pointed up ahead. "Next..."

Jubilee followed where she indicated. There lay a hairdresser's salon, and Jubilee shook her head.

"No no no," she said, "Impulse hair-cuts always a bad idea! No shorn do's, no drastic changes!"

Rogue narrowed her eyes and smiled in incredulity, and gave a light laugh. "You think I'd do that?"

Jubilee's eyes widened in defense. "You bought those!" She pointed to the bags of clothes.

"Yeah but - cutting off all my hair?" Jubilee shrugged, and Rogue pulled her along to the hairdressers. It was an angular silvery and glass affair, the woman behind the front counter topped with an interesting crop of bright red hair. She smiled at Rogue with all obligation and a touch like an automaton.

"Hey, how may I help you?"

"Ah'm here for the 1pm appointment."

"Yes..." The girl looked in her book and smiled. "Marie, is it?"

"Uhuh."

Jubilee eyed her. "When did you make-"

"This morning," Rogue said. "Did some name dropping from some of the folks that frequent Xavier's functions and they made me an appointment."

Jubes cocked a brow, nodding. "Good one."

The appointment didn't take too long, and Jubilee amused herself with some glossy magazines she'd never buy and a coffee from the folks at the hairdressers. They were all too willing to oblige a friend of Charles Xavier, humanitarian and socialite of the hour, with all his helping of children and such. She had to remember the name-dropping thing, because this service was terrific. She listened as the hairdresser prattled on mindlessly to Rogue.

"Oh your hair is so glossy," she said. "That natural streak is so very strange! You know if you ever want to to colour it-"

"No thanks," said Rogue. "I like it."

Rogue emerged from the hairdressers, her previously long single length hair now feathered and fringed. After a light snack of bagels and cookies, Rogue was about ready to head for home, and Jubilee felt a definite sense of relief.

"Swear to my Gods," Jubilee said, throwing down a double butter-nut, "This is the first day in my many lives someone has out-shopped me."

"Don't worry," said Rogue, "It's not a habit I intend to keep."

Jubilee scoffed, "And the Professor's accountant will be *so* pleased."

There was a sudden chirrup, digital and annoying, and Rogue dug around in her backpack, searching out her mobile phone. Locating it, she pressed it on and put it to her ear. "Hello, this is the Pink Power Ranger speaking."

Jubilee spat her Fanta in her lap.

"...Yeah. Rogue, this is Scott. You better come back, the Professor wants to call a team meeting."

Rogue paused at this, bewildered. Team meeting? What was he calling her for, she wasn't on the team? "Sure. That's nice, Scott. Make sure to call me when he goes for a leak too."

There was a humouring breath over the speaker and Scott continued. "Rogue. The meeting is about you. He wants you there."

"Me?" She swallowed, rubbing her brow as a weight of stress settled upon her. "Wh- no never mind why. I'll be there."

"Thanks."

"No problem. Hey - why didn't he just mind-buzz me or whatever?"

Scott paused then said, "Because you're shopping, and the last thing you need to be doing is talking to yourself in public."

"Oh okay. Seeya."

She clicked the phone off and threw it in her bag. Jubilee, munching on the last of her bagel, looked to Rogue.

"Wha-wuz that about?"

"They want me to go to one of their team meetings. They're gonna yap about me, so I guess they want me there, which is decent of 'em."

Jubilee snorted, "Dude! You get to go to a team meeting? No fair!"

"Hey, it's not my idea." Rogue threw her rubbish in the trash, and stuffed the last of her cookie in her mouth. Hefting her bags, she cocked her head towards the exit. Jubilee nodded, pulling up bags filled with things she didn't buy, "Go have a mental breakdown and destroy some stuff and you're in, I assume."

Her friend just rolled her eyes, following her out to the car park. She looked up then. "Pink Power Ranger?"

Rogue gave a wry smile, "Stupid show," She looked down to herself and shrugged, "Stupid gig."

"Right," agreed Jubes. She glanced at her own yellow pleather jacket and smiled. "Does that mean I'm the Yellow Power Ranger?"

---

Rogue was late. Logan tapped his fingers on the brushed steel table, trying to avoid the gazes of the team members around him. Beast, Cyclops, Jean and Storm sat in their chairs around Xavier, each of them passing the time in their own way; Beast had enfolded his large blue furry clawed fingers and gazed at them thoughtfully, Cyclops and Jean exchanged the odd look, Storm crossed her arms and sighed on and off and Xavier steepled his fingers, a wrinkle of deep thought on his brow.

"Is she here yet?" asked Cyclops.

"Indeed," Xavier said, lowering his hands and smiling lightly. "She should be here in a moment."

It wasn't long after this statement that a woman strode into the room. Logan had to double glance, cause the woman smelt like Marie, but didn't look exactly like her. He blinked, looking over her from head to toe, bewilderment barging through him along with a few other nondescript emotions. He croaked.

Rogue wore a pair of her regular jeans, the huge black chunky boots she'd bought, and a gauzy blouse that was tied in the middle. Over this was her light brown leather duster, on her hands a set of short grey silvery gloves that had a definite sheen about them. Her hair... her hair was different. Shorter. Her beautiful long hair, a part of him moaned, She cut it all off... He didn't like the new hair do. It was too - too adult. To swish and too elegant. It made her look older and he didn't like her looking older because it made him forget that she was supposed to be young.

He almost couldn't breathe. It wasn't just the new clothes, or the new hairstyle that framed her face delicately. There something imperceptibly different about the girl, about the way she moved. It wasn't something not of her, it was her in every way. It was something he expected to see grow in her over the next few years, not suddenly appear in her after a couple days, and he knew exactly what it was that had done this to her.

Carol. That bitch Carol.

He wasn't sure if he should have been angry or worried, because for all intents and purposes she seemed fine. She seemed more than fine - she seemed a reformed woman. Where there had been uncertainty and self-depreciation in her movements, now there was a cool understanding of what exactly she could do. She smiled coolly to Logan before *slinking* to her place at the table. He tried not to be so very happy that it happened to be next to him.

He cleared his throat, trying to get his voice box to work. "What happened to ya, Kid?"

It said everything. It said how thrown he was by her sudden shift in appearance and guise. Rogue smiled then, smiled softly with a gentle tilt of her head, and a warmth of relief and familiarity flushed through Logan. There she was, his little Marie. It was her, he realised, all of this, all this newness. It was all her. Somehow, she'd gained a freedom in her tragedy, and he didn't begrudge her it, not one iota.

"Ah told ya I went shopping," she said, her voice reflecting the timidness that used to show in her gait. "D'ya like it?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding faintly, "You look great."

Her smile widened and she dipped her head away coyly. He could tell she was enjoying her newfound confidence. He looked to the head of the table where Xavier sat, smiling saliently at the final member of the discussion.

"Welcome, Rogue," he said, "I'm glad you could make it."

Rogue gave a smile. "I'm glad to be here, but if you don't mind me asking... why am I here?"

Xavier's smile widened in approval at Rogue's curiosity, and he nodded. "Yes, to the point of this meeting. I wanted to talk to everyone about the advent of your newest abilities, Rogue. It's come to the attention of the team that with your augmented mutation you've become one of the more powerful mutants here at the School for the Gifted."

Rogue's eyes flickered with worry. She glanced to Logan for a brief moment before looking back to the Professor. "Is - is that a bad thing? Are y'all angry with me for flying around in the gym yesterday cause I won't do it again-"

"No," said Xavier, calming her with a warm gaze. "We're not angry. There's no reason why you shouldn't be free to explore your newfound mutations. They are a part of you now, and to deny them would most likely be non-beneficial in the long run."

Cyclops stroked his chin with his fingers thoughtfully, his brows dipping down behind his red shades. He looked to the Professor then, an obvious expectancy in him.

"Usually," said Xavier, "We do not consider our X-Team trainees for full team status until they've graduated high school and completed their full training, but you are a most exceptional case."

Rogue's eyes widened, and she glanced to Logan again. He practically bristled; his lips pressed together, his brow dipping down in thinly cloaked anger.

"Chuck, she's too young," he said.

"Yes, Logan," said the Professor, "This is so. In my dealings with Rogue and her mind, however, I've come to the decision that the option should be open to her sooner than the other trainees."

"Professor, what are you saying?" Cyclops asked. "Do you want her to be an X-Man?"

"Not yet," Xavier said. "Logan is right in some ways. Rogue needs to be trained to be proficient in her new abilities, undergo the mind control sessions with me that we've scheduled -get a handle on who she is and how she'll fit into the world now that she has a new personality to accommodate in her mind. What I'm suggesting is that perhaps we should consider Rogue to be one of our top candidates for a place on the X-Men team, and treat her development and consequent readiness in a different light to the other students."

Rogue shifted uncomfortably. "Isn't that a little unfair?"

Xavier cocked a brow. "Rogue?"

"Well," Rogue shrugged, "The other students... Jubilee, Kitty, Bobby... they're all workin' just as hard as me. Why am I so different?"

"Because you could probably level a wall with a few punches," said Logan, "And wouldn't have a scratch to account for it. To put it simply, Kid, they need you - badly."

"Is that true?" asked Rogue.

Xavier sighed, nodding very slightly. "Partly so, yes. I won't try to play down the crises that face us. You know them as intimately as we do. We can afford to let the others take their time to develop into fully-fledged members. You, however, could be of invaluable help to us."

Rogue cocked a lip. "Why do I feel like I'm bein' drafted?"

The sentiment startled Logan, the very thought running through his mind at that moment.

"You're not," Xavier said. "You're being considered for early candidacy.”

"I can understand if you have your reservations, Rogue, and it's very noble of you to consider your team-mates before yourself. Let's look at this in another way." The Professor steepled his fingers, brow wrinkling as he looked to her in deep thought. "If you were fresh off the streets as an adult, you would be admitted into the X-Men after a reasonable amount of training. We do this because we want to run a safe and efficient base of operations here. Our students are not a part of the team as yet because they have still to mature, to become strong enough in their minds as well as their bodies."

Rogue's brow dipped down. "This applies to me how? Just spit it out, Professor."

Xavier smiled at her up front manner, and nodded. "I believe with all the additions to your psyche, and the very nature of your mutation, that you've matured much faster than the other students, and that you'll be ready sooner to take your place amongst the X-Men, if you so wish."

She crossed her arms, glancing to the other X-Men with a firm, reserved look. Jean seemed cool, unreadable. She's panicking, Rogue thought, voice flitting in her head, She doesn't want this. She looked to Cyclops. Fearless leader needs more muscle on his side, he's afraid. She sighed. He doesn't want this either, shit none of them do.

"It's still not fair to the others," she said. "It doesn't matter what mutation I have, I'm still only seventeen years old."

"Eighteen in a month," grunted Logan. The others glanced to him. He shifted. "...What?"

Only shaking his head a moment, Cyclops looked to Rogue. "Rogue, we wouldn't be offering this to you if we didn't think you were ready. We know you're not stupid, and we know you understand the way things are." He looked around to his comrades then back to her. "Simple thing is that Magneto has a lot of new recruits on his side, that he's willing to throw into the deep end. I know trained organized muscle is stronger any day, but having you on the field for us would be invaluable."

Rogue felt a chill as Cyclops spoke to her, his voice laced with the passion of belief, and although she couldn't see his eyes, she could feel his imploring gaze biting at her.

"This is more than us drafting you, as you put it," he continued. "We're asking for your help. Not just for us, but for the people we want to so desperately protect."

Rogue could feel Logan growing very tense beside her, and she knew that Cyclops' sterling speech had really shat him off. Damn thing was, she was feeling herself cave. People protecting, she thought. She was sure if she could read Cyke's mind like a book, he'd be transmitting images of happy laughing babies in the arms of the X-Men, saved from evil mutantkind and bigoted bad folk. She sighed, sticking out her bottom lip in resignation.

"You were the high school debating team captain before you ended up in this freak-house, weren't ya, Cyke?"

Cyclops smiled, nodding slowly. "State champion, Rogue."

"I'll think about it," Rogue said, sitting back in her chair. "Talk to a few of the others, see what they think. You're cool with that, right Chuck?"

Xavier nodded, a softness in his eyes. "Of course. A decision such as this needs to be made carefully. I commend your caution."

Rogue nodded gracefully back at him.

Xavier looked to the other X-Men, weaving his fingers together on the table in front of him. "Now, onto some rather urgent matters. With Magneto's escape I think it would be prudent for us to step up our patrol roster, bring in the trainees into the perimeter watches and begin a programme to acquaint them with the Blackbird, see if we have any would-be pilots in our classes-"

A demure cough floated across the room, and all heads turned to the chocolate and champagne tressed woman at the other end of the conference table from Xavier. Lifting an enquiring brow, Xavier stopped.

"Yes, Rogue? Did you want to say something?"

Rogue glanced around herself, clutching her chair with uncertainty before speaking. "Uhm - isn't this team business now?"

Cyclops looked to Xavier with his usual stoic, yet open, expression, and Xavier shrugged, then looked to Rogue blankly.

"Indeed."

"Well," She wriggled a little, "What am I still doing here?"

Xavier pursed his lips to counter a smile. "I thought that maybe Magneto's escape and future capture may be of concern to you, considering recent events. It was also decided that perhaps sitting in on one of our meetings may be a beneficial experience for you."

"Huh!" Rogue smirked, shaking her head. "You are one sneaky son of a gun, Professor."

Logan crossed his arms. "Chairman, I second that motion."

"Whatever do you mean?" Xavier asked, a little too innocently.

"All this talk of patrols and all the bad things Magneto has in store for us - you know it's gonna make me itch for a fight."

The Professor tipped his head, nodding slightly. "I can see where one might think that, but it was truly not my intention."

Rogue chuckled quietly. "Sure, Big Man. Well keep goin', we're all listenin'. Sorry to interrupt."

"Uh... no, that's quite all right, Rogue." Xavier cleared his throat, gathering his thoughts again. "As I was saying, offering lessons to our trainees in the operation of the Blackbird should get us a step closer to establishing a reliable watch on anti-mutant activities in the area. In addition, Jean and I are currently utilizing a comprehensive mental callisthenics programme to strengthen her abilities, so that she may use Cerebro to help us search for young mutants in need of our help. Furthering her abilities should also aid us in further missions."

Jean nodded. "In the past all I've been able to pick up from the Professor at long distances is brief flashes of information. With the help of this programme, I should be able to hold long-range conversations with him."

"Ones that no one will be able to detect," said Cyclops.

"Exactly," Xavier agreed. "Now, Cyclops has already drawn up the new roster, which he will brief you on shortly. I know this will leave us all little time for rest and relaxation, but we are in a crisis situation, and I think you all knew that such times were a possibility when you joined my team."

As the Professor spoke, and the new roster arrangements were outlined by Cyclops, it soon became very clear to Rogue that the X-Men, for so long, had been sleeping, hibernating like a big old bear, just waiting to wake and fully utilize it's claws. Now that danger lurked and that real trouble drew near, they were slipping into the rhythm of war, the mechanism of preparation sliding into the shank and groove of action. It was thrilling and terrifying at the exact same moment. She could taste the slight sourness of desperation, she could see it in all of their eyes that they were afraid, they were under-manned. Fairness and equality were fading from her justifications of refusal, and the need of her team-mates, of the people that did so much for her, were slowly coming to the fore.

She glanced to Logan. He had been watching it all quietly, slowly steaming away like an angry volcano. She knew he wanted to erupt, but the pressure built inside of him, and the man showed restraint. He deserved a damned medal because she knew how much he didn't want her on the team. If there were an issue to send the both of them in to teeth-spitting fisticuffs, it was this one.

Underneath all of this, she felt afraid too. She understood that her life had long since been one of normalcy. The thought that the state of human affairs had gotten so bad that civilians, people like Professor Xavier, who were the very measure of kindness and culture, were forced to take what they had and use it against others was a painful one. Any kind of war was a terrible heart break, but there was something about the thought of mankind disintegrating before her very eyes that steeped her in an encompassing sadness.

And perhaps, just a little, she felt guilty. It was mutants that brought on this, the worst case of hate-driven warfare to hit the United States since the LA Riots in the nineties. Why it was guilt that plagued her in this instance mystified her. It wasn't HER fault, it wasn't any mutant's fault, they just existed. They didn't ask for how they were made or what they could do. Somehow though, it was the very fact that people like her existed at all that made her soul sink inside her. It was that existence that caused this.

She pulled her thoughts away from such deep issues, trying to catch up with what was going on. They were talking about the Blackbird now, and Cyclops was discussing when he could begin a training programme. She knew Bobby would be thrilling over the chance to sit in the pilot's seat of an aircraft he probably had wet dreams over at least five times a week. She also worried about Jubilee, and how she would react to the idea of Rogue being a fully-fledged team member earlier than the rest of her friends. If there was anyone who was more dedicated to the cause of freeing mutants from human cruelty than the people in the room at that moment, it was Jubilation Lee. Underneath the rapier wit and sarcasm was a heart as huge as the whole of New York City.

Rogue sighed and looked to Logan. He was listening to Cyclops, features hard. In a moment of silence where Jean waited to speak, he glanced to Rogue. For a moment, his look softened, and eyes narrowed a touch, lips twitching a little in a worried little purse. He was afraid too; she could feel that.

In his visions he saw the military, and around Rogue's neck was a token of ownership that the Canadian Government had branded him with. It was war, the kind of war that the X-Men were preparing themselves for now, that left him broken and violated. He was walking into it, all over again.

She reached for one of the hands sitting in his lap, caressing it gently. She would look after him this time. She wouldn't let anything happen to him. If anyone wanted to fuck with him, they'd have to get past her first.

Her heart was heaving in her chest as she entered the common room. She could feel it thumping, a weightless 'ick' taking her stomach as she spotted her friends lazing about the room. She had to tell them about the Professor's offer, of how everything was going to change. The room was filled with such happiness, such light airy freedom... her heart stung at the prospect of ruining it all. She was going to herald the end of all fun, of all childhood playfulness, because in what she knew would follow, one would be hard pressed to find a place for it.

The playful thunk-thunk of the fussball table filled the room, the mindless chatter of the television buzzing in the background. Kitty and Jubilee sat at the old brown and orange sofa in the corner of the room near a window that was nestled with a heavy laden bookshelf of magazines, Kitty cradling one of them in her lap. Jubilee's distinctive voice filtered through the usual noise, and it wasn't an unpleasant sound. Her voice was high, but not shrill (unless she was in an argument with someone), and it always captured one's attention. It was welcoming and warm, and one knew by the sound of that voice that if they sat and listened, they'd hear something they'd really wanna know about. The low mumbling male-talk between St. John and Bobby was quiet underneath Jubilee's talking, but it all melded together into a mismatching symphony that Rogue knew as the song of home, her family.

She blew a sigh out through her cheeks, strolling into the room, swinging her arms and fighting to look casual. Jubilee glanced up as Rogue came close, and smiled brightly.

"Hey girl! How ya feeling?"

Rogue shrugged, toeing the floor. "Okay I guess. Um..." She closed her eyes, sighing again. This was gonna be tough. "I really need to talk to you. Well - you and - and Bobby and everyone."

Easily sensing the tension in Rogue's voice, Jubilee looked past the girl to Bobby and John, a concerned wrinkle in her brow. "Yo ROBERT!"

Bobby snarled at the fussball table, Johnny sticking out a tongue in effort. With a violent jab at the table, John let out a triumphant growl, blue eyes glinting as he grinned.

"Ha! Eat shit - beat you three times in a row!"

Bobby glowered and thwapped Johnny upside the head before looking to Jubilee. "Hey, what's up?"

Jubes shrugged. "I dunno, ask Rogue. She's the one that wants to talk to us."

Bobby frowned, loping over with John close behind him. "Rogue? Is something wrong?"

Rogue glanced up to the ceiling, trying to find the words in all her worry and anxiety. She huffed a moment, wrapping her arms around herself. "No- Yes- I dunno." She shrugged helplessly. "Just - sit down." She waited till the boys were seated next to Kitty and Jubes before she began, the light beat of her heart turning to a more nervous pumping. She fiddled with her fingers, pacing a little before facing her audience and preparing herself to speak. "Okay well... see, the thing is, I was invited to an X-Men team meeting today..."

Bobby's eyes glinted. "You - you were?"

"Yeah," she nodded, then held up her hands flat. "But that doesn't mean I'm in the team." She winced, "Not *yet* anyway..."

Jubilee's eyes widened. "Woah Nelly, let's back you up here a minute... did you say 'yet'?"

"Yeah," Rogue said, "I mean - the Professor said I was being considered for early candidacy - like, he wants me to do all this full on training and stuff."

Bobby was frowning now. "You've got to be kidding me..."

Johnny leant his arms on his knees, gazing darkly at Rogue. "What makes you so special?"

"Her new powers, doofus!" retorted Jubes, "I mean geez! She can break shit, she can fly - she's like Superman!"

"Supergirl," corrected Kitty. This garnered an annoyed glower from Jubilee.

"It's not just me," Rogue said, "It's all of us. I mean - the Professor is going to step up your training programmes - Bobby! They're preparing a curriculum where you guys can learn to fly the freakin' Blackbird!"

Johnny seemed to perk up at this, exchanging glances with Bobby. "Jeesuuus..."

Jubilee shook her head. "Woah. We weren't going to be allowed to go anywhere near the X-Jet till we'd learnt all about it in college..."

"Exactly," Rogue said. She sat down across from her friends, pulling up a chair. "Guys, I have a feeling that the Professor knows that something is going on... something big. He's upped all patrols with the X-Men, he's letting Jean use Cerebro..." Rogue glanced around herself, making sure that no one was walking by the near empty recreation room. "He's scared guys... the X-Men are scared. There's not enough of them to fight whatever's coming up, and the Professor knows it."

"Why are you telling us this?" asked Kitty.

Rogue sighed, rubbing her face in her hands. "Guys... I need to know that if I decide to join early, that you won't hate me for it." Pulling her hands away she looked at the faces of her friends. They were all tinged with worry, eyes glinting with the news that had befallen them. She'd done this, she'd taken away their carefree afternoon. Jubes tilted her head, playing with the cut-off lace gloves she wore. Rogue let spidery threads of sense reach out to the mind of her friend, capturing a splash of what the young woman was feeling.

Sad, so sad, fear, sad, love, fear, love, hope, fear...

Jubilee shrugged. "Dude... you know that we're all here for the long haul. We're here for the Professor, because he's given us so much and asked for squat in return."

"Totally," agreed Bobby.

Jubilee's eyes glinted in seriousness as she continued. "Now, if he wants you on early cause he needs you - go for it. What kind of X-Chick would you be if you turned your back on the Professor in a time of need?"

Rogue felt a warming in her heart, taking Jubilee's hand with her nerves jangling despite the apparent support. "You really mean that?"

"We all do," Bobby said, putting his hand over the girls'. He looked to Johnny, then Kitty. "Don't we?"

"Hell yeah," agreed Johnny, slapping his hand down over his friend's. Kitty jutted out her bottom lip and followed suit.

Jubilee smiled, in a manner strangely solemn. It was such a sad, mellow yet supportive expression that was on the girl's face. Rogue met the obsidian eyes of her friend, reflecting the smile given to her.

"Thank you," she said. "I wasn't sure... I am now."

"That's what we're here for," said Bobby, soft smile on his face.

She wholeheartedly wished that was all they were here for. They weren't ...they were here to fight as well.

---

Sleep evaded her that night. She heard the X-Jet rumble and roar to life, lifting from the dark pit that was it's hidden home and off into the night, silent and deadly. Her peers slept soundly in the room they shared, but the thought of slumbering when her friends... her would-be comrades... were out there facing the perils of the night, kept her from such activities.

It was stupid; she knew it was stupid.

The X-Men had gone off on their patrols countless times before and she'd never worried. Why she worried now of all times was beyond her. She huffed, lying in her bed, eyes wide open, body fitful with energy and thoughts racing of what her life had become. When did it get so complicated? Why was she in the middle of all of this? She was so beyond Mississippi, beyond the girl she was. She looked to her friends, mounds of blanket and sleeping bodies in their beds.

She was beyond many things. How she needed her friends though, how she needed them to keep her young. She felt too old.

I'm seventeen, she thought, I'm seventeen. I buy magazines and eat chocolate and play fussball and argue with Logan and fly-

Fly? The thought jarred in her mind. Flying... it made Carol feel free. It made her feel free. Maybe she'd go for a float around, clear her head.

Peeling off her covers, she lifted from her bed, grabbing a blanket to wrap around her for her short flight. Her feet never touched the floor; she didn't want to wake her friends. Floating across the room, she reached to door, and opening and closing it as silently as she could. Her trip to the kitchen was swift and silent, flight presenting it's many advantages. Hot chocolate, she thought. Hot chocolate with a splash of Kaluha, and a big choc-chip cookie.

She began pulling out all the things she'd need... full cream milk, cocoa, sugar... Kaluha... When the milk was on the boil, she felt something, a soft flush of warmth against the hairs of her body. She frowned, looking about herself. She wasn't alone; she could feel it.

She kept making the hot chocolate, listening carefully. She could hear shifting outside, the odd grumble. She pulled out a second mug, and as she filled them, she added a little more Kaluha to the second one. She tip-toed her way to the door, and shuffling her way through it carefully, she felt a warmth plummet and spread through her slowly as she saw who was there, who she knew had been there.

He was leaning back against the back porch balistrade, the light of the New York sky falling on his strong, hawk-like features. His nose wasn't pointed, but it was a dominant feature on his face, his brow chiselled, as were his cheekbones. His lips were thin, drawn to a troubled pout, and indeed there were little dimples of concern in his chin.

Oh Logan, she thought, sighing softly. What are you doing up at this hour?

His hair had lost it's spike from the day, and no doubt from some tossing and turning. He puffed smoke, a cigar wedged firmly between his lips, and in one hand he had a beer. She sniffed the air. Molson Export. He didn't look at her as she approached him, nor even when she knelt down next to him. His hazel eyes, blue in the dull light, gazed forward, weighted in emotion she was too frightened to read.

"What you doin' up?"

He barely moved when he grunted, "Could ask you the same thing."

She let out a deep breath, settling down onto her behind. "Couldn't sleep."

There was a pause as the man next to her seemed to relax a little. "Me either."

Rogue nodded. She held up a mug. "I made you one of these."

He looked down to it, brow cocked, and he ticked a nostril as he sniffed. "What is that?"

"Hot chocolate."

He took it, and very gingerly he lifted the mug to his lips, blowing on it. He sipped it, then grunted as the warm tingly liquid slipped down his throat. "Hot chocolate and?"

"A splash a' somethin' else," she said, narrowing her eyes little with an affectionate yet secretive curl of her lips. It wasn't quite a smile. It was more defensive than that.

"Right," Logan said with a growl to his voice. "You know you're not old enough to drink this."

She shrugged. "If I'm old enough to go kick Magneto's ass, I'm old enough to have a spirit on occasion."

Logan grew cold then, his stare becoming firm and his features sharp. Rogue felt the reason behind all this dawn on her slowly, and she wrapped her fingers around the mug in her hand tensely.

"So that's what this is all about."

Her voice was a honey drawl, quiet and tender, a little dejected sounding too. Logan grunted, shifting nervously.

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"Well you're going to," Rogue said. "I'm not going to have you actin' like this every time I see you-"

"Actin' like what?" he said, turning and glaring at her.

"You know what I'm talking about," she said. "There's some huge kinda bug up your ass and it's got my name written all over it."

Logan blinked, top lip cocked and nostril curled as he processed the imagery her turn of speech presented him with, and he shook his head to rid himself of it. "Listen. I brought you here so you'd be safe, so you didn't have to worry about this anti-mutant thing. I brought you here to be protected." His words were measured, weighted, firm. "I didn't bring you here to be signed on to some frigging crusade." He pointed at her with his cigar for emphasis, then butted the smoking thing out, stuffing it into his jacket roughly.

She frowned, shrinking back as his strong words flowed over her. There was passion in his words, feeling. It was rare to hear Logan speak in anything but a laid back rumble. She gulped, trying to reign in the warm excitement inside of her that was brought alive by his care.

"Logan, there are people out there who aren't safe like me." She put her drink aside, curling her fingers around his bicep and leaning close, trying to communicate with the man who looked away from her now, hurt scowl on his features. "There are people that need our help real bad. I can't sleep, I can't live, knowin' that I'm ignorin' them."

"You're not ignoring them," he said, lips almost trembling, "You're giving yourself a chance to grow up first."

She sighed. "The Professor needs me. He's given me so much, Logan. It's the least I could do-"

He turned his head then, his nose almost touching hers, eyes blazing into hers directly. "You don't owe him anything."

Her gaze sobered. "You're right." She glanced forward, not being able to look into those impassioned eyes. "I want to do this for him."

Logan ran a hand over his face, rubbing his eye, a long sigh leaving him gently. He watched almost imperceptibly shaking fingers massage the dips in his knuckles, blinking carefully so that no tears could occur nor fall. "You almost got killed before and I'm not gonna see that again." He pressed his lips together, brow creased in pain. "I can't, and I can't -" He swallowed, then looked to her, his eyes imploring her with every inch of his soul. "I can't let that happen again, Marie."

She closed her eyes, leaning her head on his shoulder, sliding her arms around him. The dear, sweet, stubborn man. God she adored him... She could hear him sigh as she embraced him, his own arms winding around her.

"I don't know what to do, Logan," she said.

"Wait," he said. "For me... wait."

She tilted her head, pain in her eyes. "You know I can't do that."

He nodded, looking suddenly very tired. "And here-in lies our problem."

"Logan, you know things have changed-"

"Have they?" He glared at her.

"Yes!" she said. "Look at me..."

He glanced at her a moment then looked away, and with frustration Rogue grabbed his face in her gloved hands and glared deep into his eyes, her own passion on the subject erupting from within.

"It's been over a year since we first came here. A whole year. You know what that means?"

He said nothing, only jutting his bottom lip out in a scowl.

"It means a whole year of self-defense training, a whole year of workin' in the gym, a whole year of buildin' my confidence." She licked her lips, feeling her groove and going with it. "Now I made it over half-way across the damn continent without gettin' myself killed or felt up or raped - that was just me, little ol' me with no kick ass whammy, no flyin', no invulnerability and no mind readin'!"

Logan glowered. "That was something you shouldn't have to have done-"

"Neither is joinin' the X-Men Logan," she said. "It's something you shouldn't have to do either. You've done enough fightin' in your life, don't you think?" Only silence answered her. "Why do you do it? I know you hate it. Why do you do it?"

He sighed, looking away, Rogue's hands slipping from his face and resting on his shoulders. "Cause... I dunno. I ask myself the same thing all the damned time."

She pursed her lips. "And what's the answer you get?"

He looked back to her softly. "I do it, cause I got to."

Rogue smiled ruefully, tightening her hands around his shoulders lightly. "Same here."

He sighed, nodding, and looked back to her. They were close, her body warm and soft against his, her face a breath away from his own. She fought herself not to tremble, instead secretly adoring the sensation of Logan's firm musculature under her fingertips. After a moment of looking over her features, of examining her eyes deeply, he spoke.

"I know you're like - super-woman now. I've experienced the evidence, damn it." He held up a hand, the one that had almost been crushed if it hadn't have been for his adamantium bones.

Her heart froze as he paused. His eyes blazed, his brows tilted up... she remembered that look... Warm metal, right through her chest, the pain, oh the pain... so warm... He sighed, looking back and forth, lips pulled back in seeming confusion. He looked back to her finally, as if he'd managed to get a hold on some emotion inside of him.

"I worry." He looked angry with himself. "I worry so much sometimes I can't think. It was my fault you got taken by Magneto that first time, and it was my fault you got stuck with that psycho bitch in your head-"

She brought a hand to his face again, brows tilted, heart rending. She shook her head as she met his tortured eyes, slowly yet firm. She didn't say anything; she didn't have to.

"It was-"

Another shake of her head. She found herself running her thumb over the plane of his cheek, gently pulling him close. "I'd be nowhere without you."

It was as if she'd spoken an absolution. Logan sighed, closing his eyes, arms sliding around her waist as she pulled him into a warm, tight embrace. She leant her head on top of his, running her fingers through his tousled hair, her eyes drifting shut as he leant against her. She could feel his breath puff against her chest, his fingertips run little needy circles on her back and in the lilt of her waist. Her heart swelled with something intangible, she couldn't even begin to describe it.

It was warm and it was encompassing. It filled her to the very tips of her self, and it flowed through her, through him, binding them, making them whole. She wasn't sure what it was, but holding Logan like this, she'd never felt so complete in her entire life. She ventured to press a kiss to the top of his head, her lips warm and firm against his protected scalp. He shifted, and she felt afraid, that maybe perhaps she'd done the wrong thing. Upon seeing the warmth in his eyes, the brimming need, she knew that she'd done exactly what he needed her to. She ran her hand down his face, cradling it once more, caressing it gently... she felt so dizzy, so intoxicated... His eyelids wavered as if he were a little drunk, but there was a clarity in them that she knew this wasn't so. His hand drifted up, enclosing over the hand that held his face, stroking it softly and she felt his other hand run those maddeningly delicious circles in the small of her back, over the dip in her spine.

"Logan..."

She breathed his name, she needed to, and it seemed to feed him. His other hand slipped down, flat against the curve of her back, nestled between her shoulder blades, drawing her forward slowly...

He stopped. His eyes darted about, a gleam in them, one of alarm. She held her breath, brows drawing together.

"Logan?"

"Something's wrong..."

He let go of her, jumping to his feet and stalking to the other side of the back porch. He tilted his head, hands spread out, tense like a cat flat in long grass.

She hated when he acted like this; it frightened her. She balled her fists, glancing around. "What is it?"

He looked down suddenly. "The alarms... they're goin' off..."

That's when Rogue felt it. An echoing rush of a voice that touched her mind effortlessly, so tremendously powerful it rattled her every bone in her body. She gasped, grabbing for Logan.

"Oh my God-" she gasped, cradling her head.

//X-Men,// the voice said, //To the briefing room immediately.//

Logan turned, taking her hand. "You okay?"

She blinked, trying to get used to the sensation of power that had so briefly rushed through her and was as quickly gone. "What the hell was that?"

He sighed. "Duty call."

She stood up, mentally shaking the unsettling sensations from her body. "I never, I mean-"

"No," he said. "You wouldn't have. You never been a member of the team before."

---

Rogue had never seen the lower levels like this. Red lights she didn't even realise existed flared from the ceiling, sending the usually cool blue shiny corridors into a warm flushed panic. She raced through, Logan pulling her along by her hand. She patted his hand, assuring him with this gesture that she was fine, and glancing back to her he nodded and let go. He pulled off his jacket, and storming around the corner he saw Scott and Ororo kitting up.

"What's going on?" he asked, pulling off his excess clothing and grabbing his uniform from its case.

"Don't know," Scott said, "I only just got back from routine patrol when the alarm went off."

Logan lifted a brow. "You see anything funny going on out there?"

"No," Scott said in a dry tone, "Was all just peachy."

Rogue looked about, fiddling her fingers, not knowing quite what to do. Scott looked back at her.

"Don't worry about getting changed," he said. "We're probably fine for this mission."

Rogue frowned. "Then why did the Professor call me here?"

Now Cyke frowned. "He did?"

She nodded.

"Oh." He shrugged and pointed to the change room. "Then go get into uniform."

Rogue nodded again, rushing into the change room, Logan close behind her. Her heart raced, she'd never felt like this. It was exciting, but terrifying. She didn't know what to feel, it was a confused rush that made her stomach wince. Without thought she pulled off her clothes, down to her underwear and then slid on the thick leather jumpsuit, the sounds of revving zippers and the squeak of unused leather filling her ears. All there was was her uniform going onto her body, her mind trying to ease itself to a precarious state of calm. She didn't even register the fact that Logan was stripping down behind her. It didn't matter.

All she could see was the glaring red lights pleading for her service.

Snapping her stomach buckle closed she felt a slap on her shoulder.

"Come on, Kid, let's go."

She glanced over her shoulder to Logan, nodding. "Okay."

They strode from the change room, turning down the corridors towards the Briefing room, their booted steps clacking and thumping, rebounding off the walls into a dour echo. The door at the end of the corridor slid open as the drew closer, and inside the X-Men stood around the table, arms crossed, all gazing at their leader.

Xavier turned his head and looked to them.

"Rogue, Logan."

"Professor," the both of them replied in a worried unison.

"As I was saying," Xavier said, speaking to his team, "There seems to be only a small group of mutants infiltrating the facilitiy, targeting the sub-levels."

Wolverine frowned, looking back and forth between the X-Men and the Professor. "What the hell is going on?"

Xavier ignored him, listening instead to Cyclops.

"So what do you want us to do?"

"Stop them from injuring anybody," Xavier said, "And find out what it is they want. This lab is government owned - this is no coincidence, Scott."

"Yes sir," nodded Cyclops.

"The lab schematics have been transmitted to the X-Jet, and you already have my instructions. Take care."

The X-Men nodded, trotting off out the door, Wolverine and Rogue looking about them in bewilderment. Rogue turned to the Professor, crossing her arms, cocking a brow and a hip.

"You care to tell us why you brought us down here in the middle of the night?"

Xavier turned, wheeling himself towards them. "Just moments ago there was a break-in at a leading genetics lab in Manhattan. The infiltrators are mutants, and I sense that this is no random attack."

"Right," Logan nodded. "Then why are we standin' here yappin' while the rest of the brigade is out bashin' heads?"

Xavier blinked, the aggression floating past him. "I brought you here for back-up, in the event that the team needs it."

Rogue sighed, swapping hips to cock. "You think they'll need it?"

Xavier smiled lightly. "I'm hoping not."

Rogue nodded. "How'd you find out about this anyhow?" she asked.

"Cerebro," said Xavier. "Tremendously useful device, don't you know."

"Oh, I know it," Rogue said. "So what are you gonna do?"

"Monitor the situation from that very device, while you both wait in the television monitor room." Xavier turned and wheeled off, leaving Logan and Rogue with each other. Logan glowered, folding his arms.

"Great. I get to catch up on my soaps," he said dryly. Rogue nodded, and looked between them.

"Well lookee us," she drawled, "All dressed up and no place to go."

Logan narrowed his eyes at her non-appreciatively and poked her gently in the shoulder. "You go to the tv room. I'm gettin' the pack of cards."

Rogue sighed. "Oh yay."

Their approach was stealthy, needlessly so. Like the carnage at the prison block where Magneto was detained, the lab was in a state of chaos. Policemen were scattered about the place - shot, burnt, and crushed. The lab burned, the ceaseless bleating of emergency vehicles knelled in the distance, crying out their approach. The X-Men parked the Blackbird on the helipad on the roof of the lab and upon exiting the black streamlined jet a nervous wind gusted.

The choking smell of smoke, chemicals and burnt flesh engulfed them. Dust could be seen in the air, clouding, debris littering the roof. Scott strode forward to the edge of the roof, and looking down, his heart twisted.

Bodies, about twenty in all. Who knew how many people were inside, at the mercy of the madmen responsible for this. He set his jaw in resolve, turning around and pointing to the sky whilst staring dead ahead at Ororo.

"Storm," he muttered quietly, "Do something about the fire, will you?"

She nodded, slinking forward silently, arms rising. Her eyes flickered to life, glowing that eerie white, tendrils of electricity licking from her fingertips and pupils.

Cyclops and Jean stepped back, Hank joining them with a careful gait. He had a first aid kit in his huge clawed hands, and as the rain began to spatter down in large heavy droplets, he touched Jean's arm. She looked to him, then to Cyclops.

"Come on," she said.

The upper levels of the place were largely deserted. The stench of spilt chemicals choked them at every turn, and seeing as they were amongst offices rather than laboratories, it did not bode well for what was taking place in the sub-levels. Cyclops looked to Hank.

"Beast - I want you to check these upper levels and make sure there are no injured."

"Yes sir," he replied, loping off down the hall in a swift and elegant gait. Scott looked to Jean.

"Doesn't look good..."

"There's nobody here," she said. "It could be worse."

He knew what she meant. There could be dead here, scattered in the hallway and outside. Thankfully this strike had been made at night, when minimal staff were present. Certainly no office or administrative personnel would be here at this time. A stiff icy breeze fluttered Cyclops' fringe, and turning he saw his platinum haired team mate approach.

"It should last a while," Storm said, referring to the rain. "Enough to douse the flames."

"Good work, Storm."

Cyclops motioned them on down the hall, at the end of which was an unassuming looking elevator. The closer to the elevator they got, the more choking were the smells of burning and chemicals. Cyclops pursed his lips grimly, pressing the button to the elevator. No light lit up on the console, and pressing his ear to the door, he could hear no motion inside.

"There have to be emergency stairs somewhere..." said Jean.

"It'll take too long," said Scott. With a grunt of effort, he dug his fingers between the closed door, gnashing his teeth. He puffed, turning his head to Jean. "A little help?"

Jean nodded, and stepping forward she wedged her fingers in the door. Storm chipped in, doing her own grunt-work, and after a moment they all gave a collective growl of triumph as the stubborn doors gave way. Scott clapped his gloved hands together.

"Right... let's see what's going on here..." He stuck his head in the doorway, and gazed down the shaft. "Huh... the car is at the bottom... " Cyclops hung from the doorway, grabbing the cable. He pulled at it, shook it about, then shook his head with a dark frown. "Cable's severed. I'll bet you they cut the power to it as well."

"They were expecting an aerial defense," Jean said.

"Makes sense," said Storm. "Police, emergency services... us."

Scott looked to Storm slowly. "Yeah... but very few people know about us."

"I know," Storm replied levelly.

Looking back into the shaft, Cyclops grabbed the cable and sighed. "I guess now's a good as time as any to brush up on my rapelling skills."

Jean grabbed his arm. "Scott - that's dangerous - we can find the stairs."

"No time," Cyclops replied. He gave his fiance a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine. If I slip or fall, you can catch me."

Jean sighed, closing her eyes and cradling her face a moment. "Fine... But I can't lower myself down with telekinesis and keep a tabs on you at the same time..."

Scott nodded. "That's why you and Storm are going down first."

"Ladies first eh?" said Storm, moving forward with a liquid gait. Jean shrugged, patting her comrade's shoulder as they stepped on the edge of the floor.

"Don't ever let it be said that I wasn't the sensible one," Jean said to Scott with a pointed stare before preparing herself for her controlled fall.

"Never," Scott grinned.

Jean stepped off the edge of the floor, her hair fluttering up as she dropped. She let herself free fall for a level or two, and smoothly she slowed, feet tip-toeing, ready to land on the roof of the unattached car. As her feet touched the ground, air began to whip around her. Glancing up, she stepped to the wall of the shaft, holding onto a half-embedded beam. Above her, Storm began to lower herself down, the gusts of wind whipping her cape and hair about, supporting the woman's slender frame in the descent. It took the Weather Goddess slightly longer to make it down.

Cyclops grabbed the cable, and after flexing his gloved hands in preparation, he swung from the open door frame, bouncing off the opposite wall and letting himself skid down. He could feel an invisible force push at his body from underneath, and glancing below he could just see Jean, lifting a hand. He kept kicking at the wall, the noisy whirr of the cable slipping through his hands filling his ears. It took him little time to make it down and upon landing on the roof of the felled car with a loud bang he looked to Jean.

"Thanks for the help."

Jean gave a slip of a smile, all she could spare for the situation.

"Right..." Cyclops put his hands on his narrow hips, looking under his feet. "Lets see if this thing has got a way in..." He knelt, feeling around in the dim light, and his hands struck a lever door handle. He pursed his lips, taking a hold of it. "Well you know what they say..." Storm lifted a brow expectantly. Scott spotted it and shrugged. "Open sesame."

With that he yanked at the handle, the under-used mechanism giving a violent screech in protest. Cyke grunted, lifting the heavy hatch, and throwing it back he coughed.

Smoke, chemical vapours and dust billowed from the hole. He winced through it, covering his nose and mouth with the back of his hand. With his other hand he waved and pointed at the hole.

"Storm..."

He didn't have to say anything else; Storm knew the drill. With a little dip of concentration in her coffee-toned brow, her eyes flickered to their glowing white. Her hair lifted, whipped about her face, and a sudden gust of wind blasted down the shaft. Right down the hole.

Jean grabbed a small black comm-link from her belt and activated it. "Hank, you there?"

"Affirmative," the little comm-link relayed.

"Found anyone?"

"Not as yet," he said. "It seems to be deserted, and I find no evidence that anyone has been here in the offices for some time."

"Then get down here," she said. "There may be injured down here, and by the concentration of these fumes you can depend on there being some cases of asphyxia."

"On my way."

Jean shut off the comm and shoved it back in her belt, trying to control her hair as it fluttered in her face. Scott waved to Storm, and the gust died down swiftly.

"Let's hope that airs out some of the fumes."

"It should," Storm said, "If there's open vents or airways."

Cyclops nodded, and after a moment of considering the danger, he crouched down over the hole to listen. It was quiet... too quiet. He looked to Jean, pointing down the hole.

"You sense anything down there?"

Jean frowned, closing her eyes. They darted about under their lids, her lips pursing, and she let out a frustrated sigh. "I can't get a hold on anything specific. I don't know if it's unconscious people or people far away ... it's almost as if someone's scrambling my senses."

Storm's features grew stony as these words left Jean's mouth. "Then we should proceed with extreme caution."

"Agreed," said Scott. "Caution or not - we gotta go down there. Are we ready?"

Jean and Storm nodded, and Cyclops gathered up his legs underneath him. "Then let's go."

He leapt down the hole, landing with a swift thud on the bottom of the lift car. He put his fingers to his visor, turning his blast up a touch. Something was very wrong around here and he knew it.

He didn't have to be psychic like Jean to sense the tension around him, to feel the palpable aggression in the air.

The place was a mess. Test tubes and microscope parts littered the floor. Papers were scattered about, creating a strange layer of white over everything. Dust slipped from the odd ceiling crack, and security lights in the ceiling flashed frantically. The smell of chemicals was rife and the trail of destruction led from this large lab to more down a corridor. Cyclops turned, looking to Jean and Storm as they crawled down the hole.

"Doesn't look like anyone's about," he said, his voice heavy with deliberation to those that knew him. He was speaking in double meanings, a type of communication he taught to his X-Men initiates. While he said that it didn't look as if anyone was about, he was augmenting the fact that it was only in appearance that the place was deserted. Stay alert, his words really said. We might not be alone.

The women caught up to him, staying close, eyes darting about with caution. Jean's were drawn to the papers that lay on the desk nearby, and as her comrades crept on, she let herself read the documents littered about like worthless trash.

Her hazel eyes widened as they skimmed the pages, and she fancied that perhaps she was shaking at that moment.

Cyclops needed to go on, down the main corridor of the laboratory level, but only Storm was behind him. Jean was lagging. He turned about, a dent of a frown in his young brow.

"Jean," he said, "Stay close."

She nodded, her face pale, and with a quivering hand, she clutched the papers she held close to her chest. Cyclops frowned.

"What is that?"

She opened her mouth, closed it, then stuffed the papers into her uniform. "We have to take these to the Professor," she said, voice wavering.

"What are they?"

"We have-" She closed her eyes, then shook her head. "If they're doing what I think they're doing here... well, let's just say there's plenty of reason for mutants to destroy this building."

Cyclops frowned. "Jean... what are you saying?"

Jean opened her mouth to speak again, but a strange gust of wind blasted past her. It was the slightest flash of green that zipped by, one that nearly bowled her over. She glanced about, frowning. Storm looked about also, the static electricity in the room peaking with her concealed readiness. Cyclops gulped, balling his fists. Something was definitely not right. They were most certainly not alone. The only thing that worried him was that someone here could scramble Jean's abilities to sense others. That meant power, of the mind-altering kind.

The green zipped about them again, this time a low male giggle accompanying it.

"They seek him here, they seek him there..." The voice was cold, female. It sent chills down their spines. It was followed with a delicate but cutting laugh.

Cyclops grit his teeth. "You're not gonna out-psych us with childish games!" he called. "Come out and face us, or leave. It's your choice!"

"Hmmm," The voice was smooth now. "I choose... to play."

The green flash swept past knocking over Jean and Storm in the process. The women sprawled on the floor, coughing as if they'd had the wind knocked out of them. Okay, Scott thought. Now I'm mad.

"I hope you don't mind an additional piece in this game, then?"

The deep well-spoken voice was music to Scott's ears. Glancing behind him, he saw Beast lope forward deftly, purpose in his clear blue eyes.

"Beast," he said, "That's quite a sense of timing you've got there..."

"Thank you," Hank replied, "How many?"

"No idea," droned Scott darkly.

"One hundred?" said the woman's voice once more. "One? Who can say?"

The green flashes and gusts of air came to a flurrying stop in front of Cyclops.

Icey blue eyes. Familiar features. Impish grin. And then a set of knuckles upside his jaw. It was too fast for Cyclops to understand what was going on before the strike hit him. He sprung back, bent over, nursing his jaw. He sprawled over just in time to see Jean clutch her skull, wincing in agony.

"Jean!!"

She cried out, shaking her head, tears streaming down her wrought features.

"Poor Lady of the Red Locks," came that voice again, "Her mind is racing, racing, racing. No match for mine, now..."

Hands threw Cyclops back to the floor, and he could feel punches pound him, faster than imaginable.

"Fight Jean!!" he cried, "FIGHT!"

Jean crumpled to the floor, anguished cries ripping through her body. Storm raced on, searching the rooms for the source of her comrade's agony, and Beast struggled with the ghost of dark green atop of Cyclops, only managing to get himself hurt in the process.

As Cyclops felt blackness struggle to claim him, he knew that they wouldn't be alone for long. He had to hang on, just till help got here. It would get here, because if Jean's mind was feeling the torment it seemed to, then Cerebro would certainly pick it up. Xavier would send the cavalry.

---

"Snap."

The thump that resonated throughout the brushed steel table echoed off the walls of the television screening room. It also caused Logan to pull back his hand and wag it with a wince.

"Careful Kid!" he pouted, "You whack one hell of a punch now, remember?"

Rogue smirked. "Aw, now since when were you such a pussy-cat?"

Logan scowled and fingered the few cards he had remaining in this childish game Rogue insisted upon playing. They'd been sitting in this room for what seemed like hours, truth be told, it'd only been one at the most. The walls were lined with television screens, each one tuned in to all the different major news networks. Logan kept half an eye on them as they went. So far, it was repeats of Joanie Loves Chachi and Cheers, but he knew that the media wouldn't be able to ignore the shit that would be going down at that lab for much longer.

"You awake in there?"

Logan looked up and nodded. "Yeah, just worrying."

Rogue's features softened, and she nodded. "Yeah, me too." She sighed, throwing down the cards. "I hate waiting like this."

Logan just nodded at that, spreading his cards in his hands. "Genetics lab..."

"Huh?"

He looked up to meet the confused look on Rogue's face, and shrugged. "Genetics lab. It's an odd thing for a bunch of mutant terrorists to break into."

Rogue snorted darkly. "Not really, not if they've been doing some anti-mutant experiments there."

Logan's hazel eyes grew sharp. "See, that's the thing. Your clever terrorist wouldn't risk themselves for an 'if' situation. They know something we don't."

Rogue gazed at the cards in her hands. With a decisive shrug, she looked back to Logan. "I guess we're going to find out what they're so eager to get their hands on then, won't we?"

He nodded back at her, but not without looking harried. He didn't want Rogue to be a part of that 'we,' but by the way his hand had been throbbing from the last slap she'd given him, he had a feeling she might just be okay this time around. He'd damned well make sure of it either way. Rogue was still shuffling the cards in her hands, and she looked up to smile at him. The smile paused on her face, her eyes gleaming, staring straight past him.

"Oh mah God..."

Logan turned about, his whole body tensing at the sight that shocked Rogue. Fire, dead bodies, upturned police cars... Rogue had jumped to her feet by this time, and her stance wavered along with her balance, her hands gripping the table.

"I think we're bein' called to duty..."

Logan nodded, and grabbing Rogue he raced out the door, the Professor's words echoing in their minds.

//I've lost Jean's thoughts. They need you now.//

---

Grey. It was all he could see as pain pattered all over his body in broad splashing strokes. It had become so fast and furious that it was beyond identifying it as the individual strikes of a person and their fist. Shifting pain is what it was now. The grunts and howls of his comrade Beast were above him, and he could feel his body hair spiking gently in his skin. The crackle and hiss of electricity played in the room, but poor Storm couldn't *see* her adversary. He was too fast.

Jean grit her teeth, crouched in a ball, fingers digging into her hair, into her skin, fighting invisible tendrils of energy that tickled and writhed on her brain. They were pure noise, painful and blinding, like a thousand minds inflicted onto hers.

Her thoughts were a mantra now... Leave me alone... leave me alone!

The same elegant voice spoke to her and her alone. It was cold and crystal, this voice, like ice. It said she wasn't strong enough, that she wasn't strong enough when she was fourteen and shut in her room with the voices and she wasn't strong enough now. Never would be, never.

"What are you thinking, Jean?" she said coolly. "You're not a leader. You're not a doctor. You're a freak, wrapped in leather and toting your little tinker toys that bleep. You can't even stop me from reading your petty little mind like a book! Oh, that's right, you make things move. You call it telekinesis. Any real master of the mind calls it child's play."

Jean let out a breathy sob. "No.... leave... me..."

Storm glanced down to Jean as she began to form a fog. "Jean..."

The telekinetic didn't even glance to her comrade. Her eyes were clamped shut, head cradled in her shaking hands.

Storm concentrated on making the low fog she had started, hoping that it would reveal the tracks of their invisible attacker.

"Weather witch..."

She ignored the voice, focusing on her task at hand to save her teammates.

"Did they call you that? Or did they call you Goddess?" It was a thickly accented voice, female, gentle and silky but with a vicious edge of derision. "I will call you nothing," the voice said, "Because that is all you are to me. I will not allow you to bring harm to my comrade."

"You will have to stop me!" Storm said, brows drawn as the fog began to swirl around Cyclops, something running above him, back and forth.

The tendrils of electricity that danced around her eyes, heralding the use of her abilities, suddenly snapped and waned. She tensed, fighting to keep her mind on the fog. A tight pain gripped her, lifted her, spoiled her skin with crawling fire. It settled in her stomach and shuddered ill and shock through her organs. She whimpered, and as her head grew limp on her neck, she looked to the corridor she had checked a moment ago. Someone was there now.

The woman was decked in dark, gel-like red pleather, the high-necked sleeveless zipped up top matched by pants of the same make, tight enough for personal appeal and yet loose enough for combat. Not that this woman seemed to really need the liberty of movement. As her blood-red cloak billowed around her, the scarf tied around her head keeping long curled dark hair from her painfully pretty face, her hands were alight with balls of energy. The energy danced and grew, waned and expanded. It licked out at Storm and tormented her body.

Storm pressed her lips together, closing her eyes and summoning her powers with the very depths of her being. Winds comply...winds rush and fall...

The woman in red frowned as a small gust of wind pushed at her. "You're not being difficult are you, Weather Witch?"

Storm said nothing, her eyes glowing their eerie white.

With a bursting roar and rush, wind blasted into the room from the elevator shaft, the doors buckling and tumbling into the room. One door fluttered past her, narrowly missing the woman in red.

"Scarlet!"

The voice was a man's and suddenly in front of the woman was the green ghost. It wasn't a ghost, however. He was very human, young and fit, silver hair wild on his head. He glanced at Storm, glaring at her as if she were the very devil. He gnashed his teeth, and abruptly disappeared.

Barely a second later Storm felt her legs being kicked from under her.

---

"Sweet Jesus, this place is a mess."

Her words echoed his thoughts as they both climbed off of the motorcycle haphazardly parked on the lawn nearby the sieged genetics lab. The contours of the front of the squat, seemingly innocent office building were blinking blue and red in the light of hordes of police cars. Logan ticked a nostril, wincing a little at the results.

"Chemicals," he said, "And small fires... stay close, Kid."

Rogue nodded silently, ruffling her hair after pulling off her helmet. Their approach was one from the small brush that surrounded the lab, keeping low and watchful of the police cars. Television vans were also parked akimbo, gutted and smoking. All in all, the vehicles were empty, and the place was eerily void of moving people. Logan let himself stalk in the lead, and finding a locked emergency exit, he unleashed a claw and quickly gutted the steel mechanism. It made a harsh crunch that Rogue flinched at. Logan touched her arm reassuringly before kicking open the door.

Smoke billowed out, and the chemical smell grew stronger. Rogue coughed, covering her mouth. Logan looked up the stairwell, then down.

"Well... follow the reek of burning formaldehyde, I guess," he mumbled.

---

He knew they thought he was unconscious, because the beatings had stopped. For a moment, he took advantage of this. He could hear Jean whimpering still, and the whoosh and grunting of Storm battling the strange woman 'Scarlet' mingled with that of Beast's struggles with the fast man in dark green. He closed his eyes, letting his mind grow strong, making an effort of directing his thoughts towards his wife to be.

Hear me, Jean... don't let them hurt you... be strong!

Jean still writhed, no difference in her behaviour visible.

"Big blue man!" nattered the dark green ghost, "Strong, sure, but too slow, too slow!"

He had to do something; this was getting ridiculous. With a grunt, he rolled over. Pain lashed out all over his body. Ow, he thought. That was not a smart thing to do. Slowly, he dragged his arms underneath his body, and with a tremendous effort he pushed himself up off the floor.

The green streaks around Beast stopped, the tall limber man in green eyeing Cyclops with intrigue. The corner of his mouth lifted.

"Oh, back for another round eh?" His voice was accented thickly like the woman called Scarlet, and his eyes gleamed. As Cyclops crouched a little, catching his breath, he laughed. "Going to fry me with your terrible laser beams?"

Cyke looked up and deftly touched his visor. A beam shot out, blasting the green man in the chest and batting him away across the room, over the cowering Beast's head.

"Kick your ass with concussive energy, actually," Cyclops muttered darkly.

At that moment the emergency exit door rattled and burst open, just in time to make way for the flying man. Logan and Rogue ducked the hurtling body, eyes wide in alarm.

Logan looked from the door to Cyclops, a questioning wince on his features.

"One down," Cyke cried over the furor around him, turning to Jean. His hair was whipped about by the frenzy of forces being creating by the dueling women floating in the air. Chunks of ice and spatters of rain hurled themselves at the scarlet woman, and glowering orbs of energy glowed and clung to the Weather Goddess' frame. Rogue ran forward, glancing at the women then at Jean.

"What's wrong with Jean?!" she cried.

"Dunno!" he called back, kneeling next to his fiancée. "Telepathic onslaught, I think!"

The sound of twisting steel rattled the building, and the room shook. Logan sank to the ground suddenly, covering his ears and howling in agony. Rogue's eyes widened.

"Logan!"

He shook his head, clutching it, sweat breaking out on his skin. Okay Rogue, she thought. Freaking out isn't going to help anybody. She clenched her jaw, decision seizing her.

"Somethin's comin'," she said to Cyke. "And this all don't add up."

Cyke looked around himself and nodded. "This is a distraction."

Rogue glanced to him. "Permission to break up?"

Cyclops pressed his lips together in hesitance, but after looking quickly to a pain-stricken Logan, nodded. "Hurry back if you don't find anything."

Rogue nodded and ran.

He turned, looking to Scarlet. Perhaps he could do something about the energy-spouting woman. He sharpened the focus of his beam just slightly, and scooting down along the wall for a good shot, Cyclops let it fly. The beam hit a ripple of energy, slid around it and blasted a hole in the ceiling. Pulling Jean from the hubbub to underneath the safety of a desk, he growled under his breath. The last time he'd seen an energy field have that effect was when he took a shot... at Magneto. Rogue was right. Something wasn't right here at all.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she raced up the stairwell. She wasn't sure where she was going, but the Logan inside muttered 'instinct'. Back exit, she thought, somewhere quiet and safe and easy to run to. She heard a coughing, and a body dashed up, ploughing into her. She wrapped her arms around it as she toppled over, and going with the roll she ended back up on her feet once she reached a landing in the stairwell. She looked to the body she had in her arms. Blue eyes, silver hair and a worried face greeted her. She gave a curious smile.

"I gotcha now."

The man in green in her arms struggled, grunting.

"Aww, now," Rogue pouted, "My company ain't that bad, is it?"

"You are strong," he said, "Like a bear!"

She wrinkled her nose in amusement. "Didn't expect that, didja?" He shook his head wildly. She sighed, tilting hers. "What's ya name, then?"

"Kuh-Quicksilver!"

"How ya doin', Quicksilver, I'm Rogue," she said. "I hate to get antisocial on ya, but I got a job to do. Sure you understand." Pulling her head back, she slammed it into his, the man immediately limp in her arms. "There ya go. Didn't hurt a bit now did it?"

The man collapsed onto the floor. She burst into action again, continuing on her way. Ground level, she was looking for ground level. Quicksilver... that rang a bell... With Carol all safely tucked up in there, no doubt.

Kicking open another door, she was on an office level. Ground, the door said. She hurtled into the room on racing legs and she struggled to skid to a stop upon doing so.

People crowded around a computer closest to her in the maze of offices, one particular figure towering and distinct with his cool dark magenta helm. A woman stepped from next to him, large blue eyes cold.

"Erik..." she said sharply.

Magneto... He glanced up from the computer he stood behind, brow cocking gently. His lips lifted in something akin to a smile.

"Well..." he said, "If it isn't my young charge."

Rogue felt herself bristling, and she clenched her fists behind her back. "I'm not yours."

The woman next to Magneto was a small frame of a woman, long blonde hair parted in the middle, perfectly straight, a cascade of gold. Her face was delicate, eyes wide-set, full lips pursed. She was clothed in pure white, a thick tough jumpsuit covering her body not totally unlike Rogue's own black one. The woman's outfit was completed with a cape.

The eyes... the eyes were haunting.

"Here to save the day then?" Magneto asked Rogue.

Rogue cocked a lip, a snort taking her. "You could say that."

The blonde woman ticked a brow coldly. "What else could you say?"

Rogue gave a slow, deliberate blink. "You could also say I'm here to kick your ass."

Magneto chuckled, a fond look on his face as if she were his own stumbling child.

"What's so funny?" she scowled.

"You're so like her..." he said. "Yet you lack her... grace."

Pain erupted in Rogue's chest, and she narrowed her eyes. "You mean Carol."

"Indeed," said Magneto. "In destroying her you denied me one of my most talented comrades."

She swallowed. "Gee, what a shame." She shrugged. "Guess she shouldn't have taken on Logan and I in the same ten minutes."

Magneto's brows dipped. "I don't remember you being this cocky."

"I don't remember you bein' this talkative," Rogue countered. Her eyes flashed as she widened them threateningly. "You stallin' for time?" She tilted her head, and stepped forward to look at what was on the computer. "Whatcha got there, a game a' Diablo you just can't put down?"

The blonde woman stepped forward, arms jutting out to stop Rogue.

Magneto stepped foward, eyes wide in anger. "Frost!"

An inexplicable rage took Rogue, and grabbing the woman she swung her around, driving her down into the floor. The woman rolled, hurtling into an office chair, head striking a CPU tower under the desk. She slumped to the floor, seemingly out cold. Erik just tutted to himself.

"Carol never could abide Frost..."

Rogue spun about, glaring at Magneto.

---

The noise enveloped him. Cyclops moved about, only the rushing air and flying debris affecting him, Beast equally ignorant to what battered Logan's sensitive ears. Wolverine was in agony, his head pounding at the sound that was a thousand terrible things at once. It was twisting ripping steel, a baby's shriek, a scream, a set of nails scratching wildly at a blackboard, a wailing cat, a guitar too close to a speaker and crying out in molecule jarring feedback... If pure stabbing blinding pain were a sound, this was it, and it had Logan in its clutches.

Cyclops knelt next to the desk that protected Jean, eyeing the incapacitated Logan on the floor. After checking Logan a moment, Hank loped over to Cyclops.

"I believe something must be done about our lady in red!"

Cyke nodded. "Sure, but my beams can't touch her!"

Beast clicked his tongue. "I regret laying my hands on a lady, but in the current circumstances..."

Sighing, Cyclops conceded. "Yeah. Get to it."

Beast turned and ran headlong at Scarlet. His large blue hands wrapped around her ankles and he gave a great pull. Instead of dragging her to the ground as he thought might happen, she bobbed in the air like a cork, and turning partway she glared down at the X-Man. Without a word she directed a pulse of energy at him, bowling him over.

Storm was not a woman to waste an opportunity. Her hair whipped about, wind rushing about her. Very suddenly, the room became still.

There was a groaning of metal, the sound of buckling steel, and with an awesome wrenching the roof of the elevator car caved and collapsed. Gale force winds roared down the shaft, bringing with them chunks of ice, hard heavy rain and licks of lightning.

Scarlet spun about from her task of battling Beast to receive a full blast of the elemental attack. Hail pelted her body, rain soaked her skin and hair, and with a weaving of energy, Storm unleashed a sizeable bolt at Scarlet, stunning the woman solidly. She fell limp against Hank, who was also a little wet from the indoor rainstorm. The blue furry man looked up, his movements shaky.

"And I used to wonder how you acquired your nom de guerre," he said weakly.

Storm gently floated down, landing effortlessly and strolling over to Beast to help him onto his feet. She offered him a hand with a small lopsided smile. She looked to Cyclops.

"How is Jean?"

Scott shook his head. "Not good, under some form of attack-"

Logan let out a blood-curdling howl, the ground shaking suddenly. Cyclops glanced up to Hank.

"You feel that vibration?"

"Aaaugh..." Jean's body slumped and slowly she rolled onto her knees, tears spilling down her face. Cyclops took her by the shoulders, trying to meet her eyes.

"Jean!"

A weak hand lay against his arm, and she nodded lightly. "I'm... I'm okay Scott. Whoever was attacking my mind... they've stopped." She frowned, licking her lips. "I don't sense their mind anymore... I think they're unconscious."

Cyke looked up and around, and nodded. "We probably have Rogue to thank for that."

Jean looked over to the balled up figure of Wolverine and frowned. "What's wrong with Logan?"

Hank was back at Logan's side, trying to calm the man and continue check him over.

"I don't know," Cyclops said, "It's probably got something to do with this vibration we're currently experiencing." He frowned and tapped his comm-link on his belt. "Rogue, come in."

The belt was silent for a moment, till the smooth drawling voice he waited for spoke back at him.

"Rogue here," she said, "Readin' you loud and clear."

"Where are you?"

There was a brief pause. "Lookin' at Magneto's ugly mug."

Scott glared at Jean then gripped the comm in his hand. "You stay there! We're coming!" He shut off the comm-link before Rogue could say anything else. He turned to Hank, pointing at Logan on the floor. "You look after him. Jean, Storm - you come with me."

"I don't think so..."

Cyclops frowned at the strange voice, and whirled about to face it's source - someone standing in the emergency exit doorway. He was a tall fellow, dressed in dark colours in neat attire, heavy boots and a belt fixed with utilities the only indication that he was dressed for a mission of some sort. His hair was cropped, scruffy and fiery orange, green eyes dancing with derision. He grinned at the fallen Logan, crossing his arms and looking very pleased.

"I see your friend has already enjoyed the sound of my lovely voice..."

Logan, dangling in Hank's grip, glanced up and growled, lunging forward. "You son of a-"

The stranger screamed. It was a sound like none of them had ever heard, bar Logan, who had been victim of the sound for quite some time. Cyclops felt his head spinning, lancing pain stabbing his ears. His whole body shivered from the force of the sound, and he felt himself growing dizzy. They all buckled, incapacitated by the sound, consciousness creeping away with the growing decibels.

"Ohhh this is wonderful!" hooted the red-haired man, "I could keep doing this all day!" He shrugged and sniggered. "I think I will."

His screams shook the room, and the X-Men were helpless.

---

Magneto crossed his arms, walking forward from the desk where one of his lackeys worked at the computer. His eyes twinkled, fascination playing in them, measuring up and judging the leather-clad package that was Rogue. Trimmed hair, proud stance, smart mouth. It was all very familiar to him, yet it wasn't so obnoxious as it was in its previous incarnation.

"So how are you adapting to having Carol inside of you?" he asked, stopping in front of Rogue and placing his hands behind his back.

She tipped her head and shrugged. "We're getting along."

"I can see that," he smiled approvingly.

The young man at the computer turned and spoke in a shaky voice. "Erik, I hate to interrupt, but the files are nearly uploaded."

Rogue felt the grip of urgency within her. Whatever the hell Magneto was downloading, it couldn't have been good. Without a word she sank to the ground, rolling past Magneto and reaching for the phone line that ran up into the computer the young man was currently using.

She heard Magneto sigh, and a clattering of metal suddenly filled the air. She glanced around just in time to see a filing cabinet hurtle across the room and into her. It knocked the wind out of her, and she lay there for a moment, the pure shock of the impact stunning her. It took her a second to realise that she wasn't hurt by it, and she rolled over, shrugging off the now badly dented cabinet and getting back onto her feet. Just as she did, another slammed into her from the other side. She staggered, leaning on an office partition next to her, panting softly.

"I hate to cause harm to my mutant brethren," Magneto said.

"Bullshit," Rogue snorted, hair dangling in her face. "You were quite happy to let me fry on top of the Statue of Liberty."

"Not without much regret," he said, eyes growing soft for a moment.

Rogue shuddered, crouching down and searching for the cord again. A hand-held paper puncher bounced of her head, as did a pair of scissors, a small tin of pens and a stapler. She looked up at him, cocking a brow. "You're attacking me with office equipment?"

Her words were cut short as another filing cabinet slammed into her.

"I'm giving you a warning, Rogue," Magneto tipped his head, "If you are not with me, you are against me."

Rogue looked up at him from the floor with contempt, hand creeping behind the filing cabinets that half buried her. "Why the hell would I want to be with you?"

"Carol is inside of you," Erik said, eyes gleaming. "The seed is sown... you know why I am right."

Rogue shook her head slowly. "I know you're a very mixed up man, Erik." She gulped, tears in her eyes. Inside her, Carol had been silent. Magneto was right, she was there, always there, always listening, interwoven and a part of her whole. She sighed. "Carol knows it too, now. She knows what it's like to be a part of something good..."

Magneto's eyes glinted angrily.

"You know what, Erik?" Rogue struggled to her feet, smiling sadly. "She really really likes it." She lifted her hand, and the cord that provided the computer's connection in it. Magneto glared at her.

"No!"

She gave a great yank, a snap filling the air as she broke the wire. The young man at the computer clicked at the mouse frantically and looked to Magneto with a strangled yelp.

"Most of the files are uploaded-"

"It's enough!" Magneto said coldly, and raised his arms sharply. Filing cabinets flew towards Rogue, pounding her, bouncing off her. Computer monitors lifted and spun towards her, exploding on impact, tearing the leather that clothed her. An office partition shuddered and sprung from it's housing, hurling itself at Rogue as she struggled to her feet. It wrapped itself around her, crunching in tight. Magneto grimaced as he lifted his hand, forcing the metal tighter around her body.

It crushed her, and she fought, kicking her legs and flexing her arms. She battled for air, but fell over as Erik sent another cabinet her way.

He turned, kneeling next to Frost, patting her face. "Frost..."

The man at the computer shook his head. "She's probably out. I got most of their security protocols on disk, so we can break into their files later."

Magneto looked up to his comrade and nodded. "Very well." He pointed at Frost and got to his feet, the young fellow at the computer racing to pick up the fallen Emma. Pressing at a comm-link on his belt, attached to an earpiece inside his helmet, Magneto frowned. "Banshee - it's time to go."

As he walked away, he looked down at Rogue with a frown. "I hoped for so much more from you."

Rogue narrowed her eyes at him, voice raspy from the restricting metal. "Sorry to disappoint."

It had been pure hell to the senses for a full fifteen minutes or thereabouts, and just as suddenly, it stopped. As Cyclops pulled himself from the pain-induced inaction he'd fallen into, he slowly realised that the red-headed man was gone. He crawled towards an upturned desk, and grabbing the bottom of its in-built drawers, dragged himself to his feet. Once there, he wavered a little, clutching onto the badly damaged office equipment for balance. He tried to call out his fiancee's name, but his voice was absent. He cleared his throat again.

"Jah- Jean?"

A moan... soft moan. He turned, looking all about himself. She was on the floor nearby, on her hands and knees, cradling her head. He crouched next to her, hand sliding down her back, his heart still thumping from worry.

"You okay?"

"Mmm," she nodded. "Yeah... The others..."

"Over there," Cyke said.

Beast was still out, but Storm was already coming to consciousness, pushing herself up from the floor and blinking groggily. She looked to the big blue man next to her, nudging his large form firmly.

"Hank," she said, "Hank... wake up."

He grunted, then groaned painfully.

Cyclops made another effort to get to his feet and plodded over to Logan. The man lay in a ball, arms about his ears, unmoving. He knelt down next to him, shaking his shoulder moderately to wake him.

"Wolverine..."

He flinched, claws springing out, and glared all about him, scooting to his knees.

"Woah buddy," Cyclops lifted his hands. "Just us here."

Looking about him another time to confirm this fact, Logan's eyes rolled back into his head as he blinked slowly, cradling his head carefully. "I have the hugest fucking headache..."

"Tell me about it," Storm moaned. "Note to self: Next time we face the Brotherhood, bring ear-muffs."

"Good idea," Cyclops said.

Logan double glanced about himself, panic evident in his eyes. "Where's Rogue?"

Cyclops tried to keep calm as he looked to Logan. "She went off after Magneto."

Logan glared death at the visored man. "You let her go after Magneto by herself?!"

He didn't wait to hear Cyclops' defense. Jumping to his feet, regardless of the pain he was feeling, he raced to the emergency exit. His feet pounded the shaped concrete of the stairwell, nostrils ticking as he sucked in the air around him. He'd kick Cyke's butt if anything had happened to her, he swore blind that he would. Hell, he felt like kicking his butt anyway for the worry. His mind spun, panic gripping him. Her scent was clear, and he followed it to the ground level. The door to that level was open, and he raced in, heart pounding. He called out, brain thumping with pain, eyes burning, throat rasping.

"Rogue!"

"Under here!"

Alive! his mind gripped onto that, She's alive! With a sudden horror he realised the voice came from under a pile of battered filing cabinets. He yanked at the cabinets, pulling them off her, grunting with effort as he cleared the young woman of the bent metal about her. He frowned, brow dented, worry wracking him.

"You okay?" He stroked her face with a gloved hand.

"I'm fine," she said, drawl long and full of embarrassment. She blinked, looking down at herself, then throwing her head back. "The jerk made me into ah... unh... Rogue office partition pastry."

Logan sighed as he cleared the last of the filing cabinets. "Why didn't you just wriggle out or-"

"Magneto crunched this baby tight," she said. "It's taken me long enough to get enough space in here to breathe. Without the leverage..."

"Right," nodded Logan. "Hold still..." He gnashed his teeth, pulling at the metal. "Help me along here..."

She rolled her lips in, wincing and grunting. After a moment the metal moved more easily, and with a wriggling push she peeled the metal away effortlessly. She kicked it away as Logan helped her to her feet, looking down and swearing at it.

"Stupid piece of cra..." Her words drifted off as she felt a gloved hand at her face, and looking up at him, her heart dipped and sank within her.

Logan gazed at her, red-rimmed eyes fixed to hers, bottom lip twitching. She blinked slowly, her hand closing over Logan's on her face. She felt his other hand cup her jaw and he tentatively put one foot forward.

"Thank God you're okay!"

The female voice broke through the silence, and the frenzied steps of their teammates followed. Logan jerked his hands away from Rogue's face, pointing to her awkwardly.

"Yeah... glad you're okay..."

She nodded faintly, brows tilted up. Jean raced over to her, taking Rogue's face in her hands and pulling back her eyelids.

"Did Magneto hurt you? Are you okay?"

Rogue smiled, gathering Jean's hands in her own and pulling them away from her face. "Ah'm fine," she said. "I stopped Magneto from uploading all the files from this lab..." She turned, looking to the computer they'd been using.

It was a clear, grey Macintosh, the glossy cube that was its hard drive sitting there enticingly. Rogue pursed her lips and looked to Cyclops.

"Should we... you know?" She poked her thumb in the direction of the Mac.

"No," Cyclops said, crossing his arms. "We'd be as bad as Magneto-"

"If this were an innocent laboratory I'd be inclined to agree with you," interrupted Jean. "Something is going on here, Scott." She marched over, grabbing the G4's hard drive. "Let's go."

With a heavy sigh, Cyclops nodded. "Okay."

The team filed out down the fire escape, their steps echoing off the walls of the concrete stairwell. Upon reaching the exit, they winced at what awaited them. The scene outside was frenetic, a vastly different affair to the eerie deadness that had welcomed them before. Spotlights swayed back and forth in the sky, the chopping whirr of helicopters buzzing about them. They could hear the shouts of policemen, their steps beating the ground and their guns clicking threateningly. They were at the side entrance that Logan and Rogue had entered via, and thankfully were just out of view of the crowd out the front. No doubt the building was surrounded, and they didn't have time to hang about.

"We left the bike in the brush over there!" cried Rogue over the tumult. "We'll take that back to the mansion!"

Cyclops pressed his lips together for a moment in thought, then nodded. "You both take care! We'll see you back home!"

Logan and Rogue nodded, and they broke away from the group, racing off to where they had left the bike. They didn't notice the fresh media crews with eagle-eye lenses, or the flashing of cameras as they mounted the motorcycle. The Blackbird rumbled as it lifted off into the sky, and that too was caught by the watchful eye of the crews.

Shots rang out as Logan revved up the motorcycle beneath him.

"Hold on," he said into the helmet's microphone. Rogue nodded and wrapped her arms tightly about him as they sped off into the night.

As they rode down the highway, away from the bustle of New York's science and government district, police sirens wailed and made pursuit, but were no match for the super speed on the specially equipped motorcycle. Although the night was painfully beautiful, more stars peeking from the veil of light from the city than usual, the air sweet with the blooms that choked the residential area that the mansion was located amongst, there was a heavy darkness that filled the hearts of Logan and Rogue.

It was clear after the lab that things were changing now, things were coming to a head. The ramifications of Magneto's actions were haunting, near terrifying, and Rogue's arms tight about Logan echoed the tension inside of her, the fear of what was to come for them.

The mansion loomed down the street, lights warm and inviting, it's dark shape against the sky welcoming and secure. The security gates swallowed them up as they rode onto the estate, and the dying rumble of the Blackbird replied to their arrival. Now was the time where they would pile into the Briefing Room and lick their wounds. Rogue had only ever seen the team leave. She'd never seen them return and take stock of what they'd been through, only their tired faces in the morning. It was a first time for her, and not a very pleasant one.

They stood around the briefing table, faces drawn and clearly showing their exhaustion. Professor Xavier sat at the head of the table, fingers woven together, calm exuding from him. Rogue wondered how the hell he could be so calm at a time like this, after what they'd been through. She felt herself twitch with excess energy, anger building within her as time went on.

"Report," said Xavier.

"They ransacked the lab," Cyclops said.

Yay for Captain Obvious, Rogue thought darkly.

"They targeted the office computers, uploading information from their mainframe," said Jean. "I took the liberty of taking one of their hard drives. Kitty is going through it now, breaking the codes and gathering as much information from their computers as she can before they change them."

Xavier frowned, eyes soft and sad. "I assume there was a good reason for you to take it..."

"Yes sir," Jean said, wilting a little under his admonishing gaze. "While we were in the basement labs I found this..." She pulled a wad of printed papers from her jumpsuit, handing them to Cyclops to hand along to the Professor.

His wise blue eyes skimmed over the paper, and looking up to Jean his frown deepened. "This is data pertaining to mapping a human DNA string."

"Not just any string sir," Jean said. "On the second page there's a paragraph mentioning a certain point in the string where the mutant gene is located. It goes on to describe its attributes and the specifics in mapping it... I believe that this document is about mapping that genome."

Storm's brows tilted, her arms crossed and her lips taught. "What are you saying?"

"I believe what our dear Jean is saying," said Hank, "Is that the purpose of this government funded laboratory was to map the mutant DNA string, specifically seeking which strand causes one to be a mutant."

The alarm in the Professor's eyes was evident. At that moment there was a bleep from a console on the table. Xavier pressed a button. "Yes?"

"Hi Professor, it's Kitty." The voice was nervous and lacked the cool authority of his older X-Men. "Uhm - I've hacked my way into the government server... I think there's some stuff here you guys would like to see."

The Professor pressed his lips together darkly. "I'm on my way."

---

Kitty typed away furiously on the keyboard, and as the X-Men entered the computer lab behind her, she waved a hand absently in greeting. The team, still in their battered uniforms, gathered around her, gazing at the large flat screen that the cube was plugged into. Kitty's fingers flew, stopping occasionally to shift the mouse about on the pad. She glanced to her friends behind her and her jaw dropped.

"Wow... you guys look like shit."

"Feel like it too," Rogue said.

Kitty glanced to the Professor next to her before getting back to the computer. "Swear to God, Professor, if you came up to me and just gave me this information without telling me what it was, I'd swear it was some freaky-deaky sci-fi conspiracy theory crap."

Logan lifted a brow. "You're in a school that secretly harbours a group of mutant vigilantes," he said. "Dunno if you noticed, but you're living this freaky-deaky sci-fi conspiracy crap."

Kitty eyed Logan then got back to typing. "That's what worries me, dude."

The Professor frowned thoughtfully. "Can you somehow download this information onto our computers?"

"Already ten steps ahead of you, Professor," Kitty said, "I've been downloading since I broke in. I've also been saving information on their security protocols, in case I ever want to break in again." She blinked then looked to the Professor. "Er... that is... if *you* ever want to... er... hehe." She looked back to the screen, cheeks red. The Professor just gazed at her sternly.

"Is there any way they can trace this breach back to us?" asked Jean.

Kitty cocked an eyebrow, snorting. "Please! This is Kitty Pryde you got workin' here. I'm far too good at this to get caught out like that."

Cyclops gazed at the screen. "I'd think about how much time you're spending with Jubilee there, Kitty," he said smoothly. "You're sounding more like her every day."

Kitty stopped, eyes narrowing, and she turned her head at Cyclops, glaring at him coldly. "If you were a decent human being, you'd take that back."

Rogue nudged her friend gently, and Kitty went back to her work.

"Here we are again!" she said, "Legacy, Legacy... this word is everywhere!"

Jean frowned, pointing to the files. "Legacy01.doc, Legacy03.doc... spreadsheets... image files..."

"Keep downloading," the Professor said. "Normally I would not approve of this course of action but under the current circumstances-"

"You can't afford not to," Jean finished.

The Professor nodded.

---

Jean's back ached as she stepped from the shower. She didn't remember hurting it, but with all the rolling around in agony she'd done that night, she wasn't surprised that she'd pulled a muscle or two. Wrapping herself in a heavy fluffy nightgown, she plodded from the bathroom, sipping at a glass of water. She looked at the clock on the nightstand.

6:37 am.

It felt more like noon. The hours had crawled along, and she'd been kept up giving the team members the once over in the infirmary, to make sure they'd not suffered any serious injury. She looked to her fiance snoozing on the bed. Poor Scott. She sank down onto the bed next to him, running her fingers through his hair. He groaned, not quite asleep as he'd only just turned in.

"Nice..." he mumbled.

She smiled, drawing circles on his scalp with her fingertips. "How are you feeling?"

"Considering my body looks like a patchwork quilt from the beating that green guy gave me-"

"Rogue said his name was Quicksilver."

Scott looked to Jean, cocking a brow. "He named himself after a surfing label?"

Jean looked to the ceiling and smiled. "I think he's named for the more traditional meaning, honey."

Scott blew a sigh through his cheeks. "I feel okay." After a moment, "Better, since you started giving me the head rubs."

She sighed back at him. "Well, I'm afraid they're going to have to stop for the moment."

Scott's mouth dropped open. "Huh?"

Jean shook her head. "I can't get my mind off of these government files, and..." A crease of effort touched her brow lightly, "Hank is up looking at them too."

He stroked her arm, "Hon, you should probably get some sleep after tonight..."

Jean closed her eyes. The psychic bombardment she'd gone through had drained her, but something inside her couldn't let her rest, not on what they'd discovered tonight. "I will," she said, leaning over and kissing Scott tenderly, "After I read a few of these files."

She moved to leave, but Scott's hands grabbed hers. She looked to him.

"I was scared for you tonight," he said.

She nodded.

"I love you."

She smiled. "I love you too, Scott." She bent over, kissing him again, this time letting her lips sink deeper to his and pulling away slowly, she cradled his face. She mouthed, "Love you," one more time, then dragged herself away from the bed. Warm Scott and a soft bed was very tempting, but the possible future of mutantkind needed to be determined.

She was tired as she entered the private office that came off of the bedroom. It was the kind of tired that wouldn't let you sleep. It was the kind of tired that was past sleep. Every limb hurt, but her mind wouldn't sit still for a moment, therefore weariness evaded her. Her eyeballs even hurt. She rubbed them as she sat down and turned on her laptop and the lamp with her plodding mind. She sank down into the soft self-adjusting chair, the creak filling the room. As she waited for the computer to start up, she could hear the soft snoring of Scott from the other room. Her mind floated to him, adored him. It gave her peace to do that.

She sighed, pulling herself away from such luxuries and brought her attention to the computer in front of her that awaited her command. The drive whirred as she accessed the school's server, and in turn, the files that contained what Kitty was able to swipe from the government computers. The file that contained their stolen information was easy to spot.

It was called Legacy.

They walked silently down the hall, civilian attire soft and comforting after the stiff thick leather they'd donned all night. He was stoic, withdrawn, looking to her watchfully as they plodded back to their separate rooms.

She would look to him from time to time, and try to smile. He tried very hard to smile back, but the smile wasn't in him. He'd been too damned worried for her, too damned scared when he couldn't find her for that split second in the lab offices. Her smile was difficult because of what she had seen, and what she'd been through. She didn't realise that simply talking could be so exhausting, but facing off her worst and most intimate enemy drained her like nothing she'd ever known.

Her eyelids lolled up and down, and he sighed.

"You look ready for bed, Kid."

Rogue nodded wearily. "I am so ready."

The smile Logan had been chasing splashed on his face a brief moment. They slowed as they reached Logan's room, and he stepped awkwardly, frowning.

"Uh..." He cleared his throat. "You okay? After, I mean... with Magneto an-"

"Ah'm fine," she said, nodding. "Thanks for helping me out of the - you know..." She mimed the office partition around her and Logan nodded thoroughly.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said, waving a hand, "It's nothing."

She looked up to him, large brown eyes warm. "It's not nothing to me."

For a moment, he felt lost in those eyes. Such kindness, such understanding. He couldn't fathom it, that such tenderness was for him. He didn't feel like he deserved it, what she so freely gave him day in and day out. All he knew was that without it... He didn't want to think about being without it. It scared him too much. He pressed his lips together, sighing softly, and hesitantly, he brought his hand up to her shoulder. She looked down to it, and then to him, and with the tiniest of rumbles he pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her.

She stood there for a moment, a little uncertain of what to do, her hands inching their way around his wide form.

"What's this for?" she said, a touch breathlessly.

"Not gettin' yourself killed," he replied, stepping back. After gazing at her one more time, he brought his still gloved first knuckle to her chin, nudging it gently. "Night."

She smiled broadly. "Night Logan."

Although she was tired, her smile was bright. It filled Logan with something intangible, and as she turned and strode down the hall, hair bobbing, wafting the most delicious perfume, Logan retreated to his room. He closed the door behind him, and the smile lived in his mind, vivid, lasting. It didn't leave him, and it stayed with him as he collapsed in bed, drifting off to sleep.

---

Her hand shook as she reached for the telephone, her breaths shallow and hot. Her eyes hurt, and the glasses pushed up into her hair stung at her scalp. The steady beep of the internal line sung at her from the handset, and she pressed a button. Her voice was scratchy from disuse, and the voice on the other end of the line, although well spoken, was just as rough.

"Henry," she said, "Have you hit the government initiative files yet?"

"I am reading these a second time," said Hank.

She blew out a sigh, fighting tears in her eyes. Tears of frustration, of fear, of grief. "I can barely- " She lost her breath, covering her mouth, eyes stinging and welling. "I'm sorry... I'm tired... I wouldn't usually-"

"These are not usual circumstances," Hank replied. "We should tell the Professor of these files."

"I know," Jean said, "I know, I just... It's going to be a blow to him."

"It will also clarify things," he said, "Including why Magneto felt compelled to break into the genetics laboratory."

"Oh yeah," said Jean. "It clears things up real nicely."

She sat there for a moment, quiet, sharing the silence with Hank, clicking through the files. She felt like she'd been kicked in the stomach. Everything she'd done, everything she'd fought for... she felt like it was all wasted, all decimated in a few words.

Mutant gene inhibitor, in the form of an easily transmissible virus. The government, whether the President knew it or not, was taking up germ warfare to clean up a portion of society. The uncontrollable element. The wild card.

She blew a sigh through her cheeks again. "We're screwed."

"Not entirely," said Beast. "We've discovered their plans early, and with dubious thanks to Magneto's terrorist efforts, have all the information they gathered in their research efforts. Counteracting any virus they manage to develop may not be too difficult."

"I have a bad feeling about this, Hank." She shook her head, scrolling through one of the documents. "A really bad feeling."

The mood of the team in the briefing room that day was that of tension, of anxiety. It had the muted air of a force defeated. It was not a morale that the Professor particularly liked, but under the current circumstances, he couldn't very well blame his charges for their feelings. Storm, Beast, Rogue, Logan and Cyclops sat around the table. To the far end of the room, in front of a large wide-screen projector stood Jean, arms wrapped around herself, features drawn in stoic determination as she looked at what was on the screen.

It was a DNA string. Next to it were two cells... a virus and an antibody. Her brown brows were tilted. "The information we garnered from the government server was extensive," she said, the light from above the table reflecting in her fine-rimmed spectacles. "Hank and I collaborated on interpreting the data, and Kitty assisted in helping us access the mail files and converting them to text files. I wish I could say what we found was nothing to be concerned about..." She ran her fingertips over her lips, taking a moment to collect herself. "It is. What you see in this projection is the contingency plan of the United States government in dealing with what they call the 'Mutant Problem'. It's a problem they feel they need to control, and the Legacy Project is their answer."

Rogue frowned. "Legacy... isn't that what all those files 'r' called?"

Jean nodded. "Legacy is the codename for their defense against mutant-kind - the viral body you see before you now."

Rogue felt a yawn inside of her. A virus... they were making viruses to deal with them?

Professor Xavier's brows knitted, and he pulled in a steady breath. "What does this virus do?"

"Thankfully it's still in development, so this virus may not exist yet." She pulled a laser-pointer from her pocket and clicked it on. "What you see here is a healthy human cell." The red point of light floated around the much larger of the two cells. "It has a nucleus, and all the chemicals and bodies needed to create more cells of it's kind. Viruses are, very simply, packages of RNA or DNA encased in a protein shell, that invade healthy cells and use their replication material to procreate. Without healthy cells, viral bodies are helpless, and cannot multiply." She pressed a button on her laptop and the slide changed. The picture was now of a close-up of a DNA string, and a close-up of a viral body. In both of these were highlighted segments. "This particular virus, the Legacy Virus, needs the existence of a particular DNA sequence in its host to activate. Without it, the cell ejects the foreign material and the virus is flushed out of the body. The government have dubbed this DNA sequence the X-Factor gene."

"Catchy title," rumbled Logan.

Jean eyed Logan unappreciatively for a long moment before continuing. "From here on in it gets a little complicated. To put it simply, once the virus locates this x-factor gene, it absorbs it into its RNA and replicates. The virus goes through the body this way, targeting the special systems that are responsible for a mutants' abilities. The mutant slowly loses their abilities, till they're no longer present in their bodies."

Rogue felt herself glancing to Logan, her heart thumping in fear.

Silence dampened the room, the Professor weaving his fingers together and bringing them to his jaw, leaning on them dourly. "Did you manage to find out how they were planning to utilize this virus?"

"Affirmative," said Jean, pressing the laptop again. A tree diagram was up on the wall, all leading up to National Security. "This project is funded by the Department of National Security. I can only assume that the president knows about this. It's a project that would have been under the highest of secrecy. For Magneto to have found out, he would have had to have someone on the inside. Of course, he does have someone on the inside."

"Senator Kelly," supplied Xavier.

"Exactly," said Jean. "Another project we saw mentioned in mails and documents, also funded by the DNS is 'Project Sentinel'. From the context in the messages and the incredibly brief descriptions we were able to gather, it doesn't refer to something medical. It's a defense project. In one document, they referred to using the Project Legacy in lieu with Project Sentinel to gain total control of all dangerous mutants. The word 'sentinel' connotes someone that stands guard. I have a feeling it's some form of policing project, with mutants in mind as the target." Jean turned off the pen and the slide show, folding shut her laptop.

Eyes were down turned and hands clasped together, a darkness in the usually bright brave features. One by one they looked to their leader, Professor Xavier, their need for his wisdom, his guidance, his calm, painfully evident. He lifted his head proudly, sighing a little, looking to his team with a quiet defiance.

"This shall not slow our work," he said. "We will fight this, however, we will do it as X-Men. It won't be easy, trying to combat something like this, and staying within the confines of the law. Unlike our renegade counterparts, we will not take human life. We will not endanger those that cannot defend themselves against us. And as always, we will defend our human neighbours from our own kind and any unjust acts that mutants may try to inflict upon them."

Logan clenched his teeth, hazel-green eyes flashing with anger. "So while these bastards try to take away what makes us who we are, we're gonna smile and hand 'em our freedom as well?"

Xavier's eyes grew cool then. "No, Logan. As I said... we will fight them." He sighed, looking down, a dent of sadness in his brow. "This is a war, after all."

A bleep chirped from the console beside Xavier, and he pressed a button at it.

"Professor, I know you only want us to use this button in emergencies, but I think it kinda counts as one and-"

Xavier's expression softened a touch, and he fought to keep the smile off his face. "Slow down, Jubilee, and tell me what's wrong."

"It's the news sir... you guys are on it."

---

The energetic voice of the news reporter spoke over the muted whirr of helicopters, the slightly shaking camera work detailing the destruction left from the night before. Policemen staggered into ambulances, trails of blood dribbling down their harried features. A shot cut in of four men carrying away officers on stretchers... both of them enveloped in vinyl body bags. The children about the television looked on in horror, holding themselves, covering their mouths or just shaking their heads in disbelief. One boy looked back at Cyclops, a frown of worry on his face.

"You didn't do that, did you Mr. Summers? You didn't kill people, right?"

Cyclops' jaw tightened a little as his expression hardened. "No, Jake, that was the other guys."

"What other guys?"

"The Brotherhood."

Rogue gasped, "Oh mah God..."

On the screen was suddenly shaky footage of a group of people creeping in front of the building. Two broke away from the main group, and these two the cameraman followed. One was taller, obviously masculine, the other was shorter with dark hair and a shock of platinum bolts.

"Footage of the perpetrators was enhanced by the FBI," nattered the television reporter. "From the two groups of people leaving the complex, only one mutant was identified." A fuzzy infrared image of a tired old face in a smooth round helmet was flashed on screen in a small yellow border. "This man was imprisoned last year for an attack on the International Summit from the Statue of Liberty. The attack irreparably damaged the statue, the structural integrity of the extended arm insufficient to allow repairs. Erik Lenscherr was sentenced to life imprisonment at an undisclosed location, which was inexplicably discovered. He escaped when followers of his militia group laid siege to the top secret government installation, destroying the very infrastructure of the building itself."

Another picture flashed upon the screen - it was the dark shady figures of the X-Men fleeing the scene. "The second group of unidentified mutants are thought to be a separate entity from Lenscherr's self-proclaimed 'Brotherhood of Mutants', though they are still suspects in this attack. They arrived half an hour later to the scene, the Brotherhood suspects fleeing shortly afterwards. Computer enhancement was able to salvage this image from the news footage." Another image swept out from the picture of the X-Men. It was a zoomed in picture of Logan's belt, the yellow of the 'x' belt buckle proudly spelling out his affiliation to anyone with the right knowledge. "Witnesses claim that the second group all wore uniforms, each one bearing an 'x' similar to this one. Are they a highly organized vigilante group? Are they terrorists? Officials say that from the differentiating behaviour of the two groups, and the actions of the two, that the 'X-Group' may have been there to stop Lenscherr's Brotherhood." The report cut to a swarthy police-chief, talking to a reporter beside the camera.

"From eye-witness reports we were able to gather that the second group were highly organized, and highly focused. They did not inflict any harm on our officers. All they seemed to be interested in was getting inside of the building."

"Are you saying that this second group are innocent of the damage the lab suffered?"

"No," the Police Chief said. "Not at all. They still trespassed upon private government property, and they need to be detained and questioned, despite what their intentions were. This is a serious crime and we need to find out what went on here tonight."

"What is your response to speculation that the two groups may have been working together?" asked the reporter.

"Current evidence doesn't point to that scenario, but it is a possibility. Not a very strong one, but a possibility none-the-less."

Jubilee turned from the television screen, looking to the Professor, voice soft and eyes sad. "They said that a reporter and five news crew died. Thirty policemen died, Professor. From organ rupture and burns and stuff."

The Professor laid a hand on the girl's shoulder. "I know Jubilee."

Rogue massaged her brow, eyes closed, a crease of stress between them. "What are we gonna do, Professor? They think we're terrorists. This'll give the Government even more reason to neuter us of our powers."

Xavier sighed, rolling his chair away from the television. "I was hoping it wouldn't come to this, but it is not totally unexpected." He pressed his lips together. "Our level of secrecy has always been of high priority, but now it's importance is of even more consequence than previously imagined." He trundled away from the sitting room, away from the stunned groups of children. The X-Men followed him slowly. "I knew that the X-Men would one day be identified, and I was hoping it would have been under much more favourable circumstances." He sighed. "Although our introduction to society is less than amiable, our actions shall speak for us and hopefully clear our name."

From behind Rogue, Logan folded his arms. "And what actions are those?"

Xavier looked to Logan. "That of a peaceful group, a group formed to help society, not thwart it."

The X-Men trailed behind Xavier in silence as they made their way back to the briefing room. Although their collective mood was that of defeat, somehow, despite their dire circumstances, there was hope.

The sun was warm, beating down upon her swathed up body. Gloved hands cradled a rose... if she didn't keep the gloves on, the plant would wither, and she'd have dreams of bees and earth and sunshine. Her eyes caressed the fleshy petals as her gentle soft fingertips could not, and her shoulder-length, lightly feathered hair fluttered about her face in a gentle breeze.

The earth beneath her was warm. She dug her toes into the damp bouncy soil, gripping the woodchip-strewn peat under the pads of her bare feet. It was a rare treat, walking bare foot, but she needed the luxury. She enjoyed the sensations of the world for a brief while, the warm fertile soil, the cool concrete, the crystal waters of the main pond and the cool slap of the marble surrounding it. For a brief moment it soothed the ache she felt inside, the strange ache that was different to any other one felt. It wasn't about small things... it wasn't about one's self, or someone she knew... even though on some level it was. It was about everything, about many people, about mass suffering. It made her whole body seem heavier, and the ache pulled at every inch of her body. She couldn't let it overwhelm her though, because she had to be there, had to help others stop the cause.

She smelt him before she saw him, the vestigial gift of slightly heightened smell his legacy to her from their brief bonding. Today he smelt more of light soap and skin rather than cigars. He'd been too busy to sit down and enjoy one, she guessed.

"Hey..."

She looked up to him and smiled softly. "Hey."

He walked over to her, hands deep in his pockets, a pouting thoughtful frown on his features as he watched her hands feather over the rose in front of her. He looked nice for some reason. Maybe she just appreciated everything more because of current circumstances, she wasn't sure. His hair was a little fluffy, his hair products not capturing all the hair. A few locks bustled down against his forehead in the light breeze, and the warm brown colour of them brought out the gentle hazel of his eyes. Many times, she'd seen his features hard, aggressive. She was fully aware not everyone got to see him like this, that it was a secret treasure. His brow was smooth of any concern, and his mouth was full and not pulled back in aggression. It was slightly upturned in curiosity. He had his leather jacket on, a nice shirt, worn jeans and his old shit-kickers. Yeah, he wasn't wearing anything special, but he looked really good that morning.

"Why don't you take your gloves off and touch it?"

She looked down to the rose. "Cause if I do that, I'll start thinkin' I'm a rose bush."

He nodded slowly. "Ah."

"You okay?"

"Yeah," he said, looking to a rose that stretched up from the bush next to him. "Just came back from the Professor's office. A few of us were talking about the new patrol rosters, a little meeting thing..." He shrugged, touching the rose in front of him, his finger sinking into the petals. "I stayed back and uh -talked to the Prof about you."

She rose her brows. Oh no. It was getting dangerous, and now Logan didn't want her to be on the team more than ever. She bit back a sigh, steeling herself up for an argument she knew had to come.

"I know you and I haven't seen eye to eye on this," he said, hands back in pockets again. He looked to the ground, boyish frown on his face, toe of his boot digging into the dirt. "I just - after yesterday, I had a good think about things and about the whole issue of you on the team, and considering the current circumstances-" He stopped, sighing.

Rogue's stomach tied itself in a knot, and she frowned with wide eyes. Just say it! she thought.

"I thought it'd be best if you came onto the team when you felt you were ready."

She gasped, covering her mouth, brows tilting up. "Logan..."

"Lemme finish, Kid. Now, if it's sooner or later, it's up to you, but uh..." He pressed his lips together. "You were terrific out there, Marie. I know Cyke is worried about the team and all, and it isn't the same without ya." He rolled his tongue about in his mouth a moment in thought. "I still don't like the idea of you on the front-line, but I saw you yesterday and I think you were really doing something you were meant to."

Rogue felt a warm spreading sting in her eyes, and she ran her hand up and down her arm, holding herself through the rush of affection within her. "You mean that?"

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah I do. If it's something you wanna do, then do it."

She broke into a smile, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around Logan. "Thank you."

He looked down at her, hand hovering over her head. "It's... it's okay." He let the hand touch her hair, cradling her head and holding her close.

He was warm, warm like the sun. The smell of soap from his shower that morning filled her lungs, and the soft fuzz of his flannel shirt caressed her face every time he took a breath. His arms were large and strong about her, and even though she could do a thousand amazing things with her strength, in that one moment she was slight and small, harmless in his arms. She gave a soft moan and a final squeeze, then pulled at him before letting him go. "Come on, let's go get my shoes."

"Where'd you leave 'em?"

"By the main pond," she said. They walked in silence for a moment, the sounds of the warm day filling the distance between them. She glanced back at him. "Hey, did you see the news this morning?"

Logan shook his head. "Too busy plannin' how to bash the crap out of people with the Professor."

She sighed, watching her feet pad along the concrete walkway. "They're freakin' out in the White House. Demanding that Senator Kelly take up his anti-mutant stance again."

Logan snorted. "Yeah, like that's gonna happen."

Rogue flapped her arms in exasperation, walking towards her Doctor Martins as they reached the pond. "Things are getting worse."

"Happens, before they get better."

Rogue glanced up at Logan, her boot in her hands, a look of confusion on her features. "I didn't figure you for an optimist."

A smile, small and mischievous, touched Logan's face briefly. "I'm not, but one of us has to be."

She nodded, stuffing her foot into a sock. "What do you think Magneto's gonna do with the information?"

Logan shrugged. "Dunno. You're the one with the guy in your head, what does he say?"

She blew a sigh through her cheeks. She really didn't want to access that part of her mind, but considering that she was the only one with such an understanding of him, it was a necessary evil. She closed her eyes and winced. "Most of his jumble goes on about countermeasures... recruiting..." Her eyes fell open and she looked to Logan. "Necessary sacrifices." Logan frowned, edging forward slightly, but before he could offer any comfort she shook herself, stuffing her foot in one of her boots and sighing. "I sit here and look around me, and everything's nice... it's like it's not real." She glanced up to him, and a sadness splashed in her eyes. "But I look at you, at the Professor... all of you guys. You don't smile as much... and I know it is."

He knelt down in front of her, taking her hands in his. "Hey..." He tilted his head, trying to draw her down turned gaze up. "We're all gonna try and do something about this." She met his eyes, nodding silently. "The bastards ain't got us licked yet."

She nodded with a smile. "I know, I just... I worry about people."

"Yeah," said Logan, "I know." He brought her gloved knuckles up to his lips, pressing a kiss there. Although wrapped in fabric, her skin could feel the warmth of them, the soft give of his flesh. She smiled again.

"Thank you."

Logan stood, ruffling her hair. "Don't mention it."

She grinned and ducked her head away. "Now you gone and messed up my hair..."

"I know it's not like me to rattle out somethin' ol' One-Eye said to someone else, but I think you've been hangin' out with Jubilee too much."

The loud clunk of her boots replied to Logan as she stomped her feet on the pavement, making sure that her boots were on right. "It's okay. I got her sayin 'Y'all'. Soon I might get her sayin' 'Howdy', and it's all fun and games from there."

Logan turned away from the pond, walking with her back to the mansion. "As long as you don't start saying 'radical', I don't care."

She giggled, wrapping her arms around one of his and snuggling to it. "No problem, dude."

He gave her a firm glare, hinted with a glint of laughter, and she laughed again. It was a nice moment, a nice moment encased in a shell of calm. Always, in the back of her mind, as she laughed and smiled, there was that all-encompassing ache. It roared back to life when the laughing stopped, and it made her sigh unwittingly. She enjoyed his company, enjoyed the day, because, although she didn't want to admit it to herself, not now, not ever, it might be the last she'd live. Or very possibly the last that Logan would live… or any of them.

They moved through the motions of preparation, and Rogue made a place in her room for the notes she'd receive from the Professor during briefings. Her friends made room in their schedules for special training, and the television made room in their programming for special bulletins on the 'Mutant Problem'. Life went on, but it wasn't the same. That dull ache came back when Rogue thought that maybe, it never would be.

Things were changing, and the war had begun.