Bed. Definitely a bed. Mattress--shit, it must be a motel, only they were this uncomfortable. Marie had learned to hate staying in motels when she could avoid it. Scratchy sheets, a light blanket. Uneasily, she tried to reposition her legs and one slid off the bed, not quite reaching the floor. Odd, that.
Absently, Marie reached out, but there was no one else--in fact, there was no bed at all but only free space where her hand extended, and that's what woke her up completely, though she had the sense to keep her eyes closed, let her arm fall back down, steady her breathing to resemble REM sleep again before someone in the room noticed her movement--or if they did, attributed it to sleep-stress. A breath confirmed a foreign scent--only one.
Cautiously, she let her eyes slit open, taking in the--yes, a lab, definitely. A few feet away, a woman was bent over a computer screen, frowning at whatever she saw.
Red hair. That's what she noticed first.
{Logan would really like her.}
It was an effort to force her lips from curling in amusement.
There were soft sounds--monitors beeping unobtrusively in the background, probably connected to whatever was in her arm right now, checking pulse and respiration and all the other things that Marie knew the human body did, but wasn't exactly sure on the terminology. Which was fine. She knew all she wanted to about anatomy--seeing her own on the dusty-grey of that road in Laughlin was enough. And why the fuck had she gone anyway?
Shit, Logan was going to kill her. Not in a good way, and she almost groaned at the thought.
Cool fingers touched her arm, lifting it, and Marie slit her eyes open enough to see the needle float quietly over her body. Telekinetic--fair enough. The fingers that touched her were covered in latex--smart woman, so someone had heard the warning Marie had gasped out before letting unconsciousness overtake her. Or maybe the woman was a doctor and was used to wearing gloves. Or...oh crap. Speculation was pretty pointless--better idea, go straight to the source.
There was a prick of a needle in her arm and Marie acted. Careful, remembering Logan's warnings in her head if she acted too fast and caused damage she didn't mean to, she caught a vulnerable throat in one hand, and supporting the woman's shoulder with the other, easily flipping her onto her back on the bed, crouching on the balls of her feet over her.
Pretty. Very pretty. Logan would like her. Her lips twitched again, and she forced herself not to smile, to give too much away before she knew the score. And it was really hard to be threatening while giggling.
"Where am I?" she said softly, lightening her grip on the woman's throat, over the collar, careful to keep her balance, keep the advantage. Smart lady too--kept her hands down, didn't struggle at all, and she jumped in Marie's estimation.
"Westchester, New York." Fuck, the US. Not where she wanted to be. "Professor Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters," the woman told her. "I'm Dr. Jean Summers--I treated your injuries after we found you."
It was still vague--the burning of her stomach, the burn of her mind, and being surrounded by people all in black--sensing only worry from them, knowing she was in no position to argue against any kind of help. Strong arms lifting her--a visor?--fingers sensibly gloved checking her pulse and calling for--Jean.
This woman.
The name of the school sparked a long dormant memory and Marie nodded warily.
"I've heard of the school. Jean Summers--mutant activist, right? Lobbied Congress against the Mutant Registration Act?"
A slow nod--Marie didn't pick any fear off of her at all, just caution and worry and a little nervousness, perfectly natural under the present circumstances. Raising her considerably in Marie's opinion, but she kept her face expressionless, kept her breathing even. Good guys, yes--Xavier had a hell of a reputation.
"Yes. Now that you've established my identity, could you tell me your name?"
Marie considered all her options before answering.
"Rogue." Carefully, she removed her hand from Jean's throat and hopped off the bed, wincing at the pull of the muscles in her abdomen. "How do I get out of here?" She glanced around the room, locating the door, then at Jean as she slowly sat up, fingering her throat lightly.
"You are still very weak--"
"I'm fine." Though her stomach didn't like all the movement she was forcing on it and she traced her abdomen with one hand, feeling the soft layer of bandages under the hospital gown. "Where are my clothes?" Jean slid off the bed, and Marie felt the woman's eyes fixed on her, rather the way one might watch any predator you're not quite sure how to classify. Marie grinned a little. "I won't eat you--where are my clothes? Hospital gowns suck." She waved a hand to encompass her frame. "Drafty. Make this easy. Give me some clothes and let me leave."
Jean's eyes grew distant and Marie watched them unfocus, pupil dilating, the smooth forehead creasing--telepath too. She'd seen those before.
"Red." The eyes snapped open, startled. "Clothes?"
"Yours were unfortunately unsalvageable," Jean told her, still watching her warily, but still no fear, none at all. And that was so new, so unusual, that Marie couldn't help but relax in her presence, against her own better judgement. "I'll get you something--but please, talk to the Professor first." A pause. "He sent us for you."
Unspoken--be grateful you were found, damn it, though there was definite humor in the woman's eyes. Instinct told her she was safe, and Marie had learned that usually, her instincts were right.. Keeping her gaze on the woman's face, she slowly nodded.
"If I'm free to leave after--we have a deal, Red?"
Jean nodded slowly and Marie grinned, walking to the bed--Jean took an involuntary step back--and hopping onto its side.
"Okay. Clothes, please?"
The Professor was familiar in the way that television can make a person--once she saw him, Marie recalled seeing him at several televised lectures and fundraisers, just in the background. Never speaking. Relatively low-profile--if you weren't watching for him, you'd never notice him at all. But Marie had, over time, following the progression of the debates over the MRA with the same interest Logan devoted to hockey scores--one of them had to be decently informed, after all. She took the chair before his desk, watching Jean cross to stand beside him. Interesting positioning--not exactly defensive, more supportive. Also familiar, though Jean was far more visible in the media.
"Rogue?" He had a wonderful voice--low, richly melodious, traced with a deep British accent. A man who had seen a great deal and come to terms with it. The slightest edge of pain--she wondered why. He emanated trust and goodwill to a startling degree and Marie forced her expression to carefully neutral, shifting her arms inside the grey sweatshirt and folding them across her chest.
"Yeah." It would work for now--relaxing into the cool leather, Marie evaluated the two before her--she would make book that this Xavier was a telepath as well.
:::You are correct, Rogue.:::
Marie smiled, feeling the cool touch of his thoughts--but not beyond the outermost layers of her mind, respecting her privacy.
"You have experience with telepaths," Xavier commented out loud. "Your shielding is excellent."
"A little. Not much pleasant." Rogue crossed her legs, darting her gaze between the two. "Look, I'm grateful, don't get me wrong. Thanks for all you did. But--look, I gotta get back. Someone is gonna be lookin' for me--" she stopped, seeing Xavier's slow nod, and a rush of exultation filled her. "Is he here?"
Before they'd even answered, she dismissed the idea--if Logan was here, she wouldn't have been alone in that lab when she woke up. Likely, she wouldn't have been in that lab at all.
"No." She saw Jean's brow furrow again--who was she contacting now? "You were attacked three miles outside Laughlin City--can you tell me who attacked you?"
Rogue shut her eyes briefly, shivering a little--only the barest brushes against her bare skin, sick as it was, still fresher than she really wanted, though while unconscious her mind seemed to have sorted it out. What nightmares she could remember were vague. Good. She didn't need any more.
"Called himself Sabretooth," she said finally, then gave the Professor a long look, seeing his utter lack of surprise. "Not the first time we've met--did he get away?" A sigh--she was being dense. "I guess he did or you wouldn't be askin'. Shit." Absently, she rubbed her knuckles--lingering sensitivity from what must have been a hell of a set of bruises. She hoped Sabretooth remembered that next time. "He was pretty much out of it when I got taken down. Shit."
There was a long silence--she realized Xavier and Jean were looking at each other again. Significant looks, silent communication, and Marie's senses screamed to alert in the space of a heartbeat.
"It's happened before?" Xavier's voice was low.
Marie took a breath, thinking through their surprise.
"You know him." It wasn't a question. Neither seemed interested in lying to her.
"Yes." A simple statement--they seemed to be debating how much to tell her--she had no problem with that. Secrecy was a good thing--if they told her too much too fast, she might become suspicious. She hoped they had a similar opinion on her reticence. "He's a colleague of an old friend of mine--what I don't understand is why he wants you."
Marie shrugged--she had an idea, from that fateful brush of skin, but until she knew more, it would be stupid to start doing a group-sharing exercise.
"Okay." They both looked at her, identical expressions, and she wondered vaguely if they were together, if he accounted for the ring on the woman--Jean's--finger. After a few seconds, watching the body language, she decided not. Took in the Professor again, scanning the scents she picked up--and her eyes went to the chair he was sitting in.
A wheelchair. Yeah, that meshed with her memories.
"I'd like to leave now. Someone will be wondering where I am." The Professor turned his full attention back to her and she felt the brush of his mind, locked hers down as hard as a non-telepath ever could, a big Don't Enter sign blazoned on the surface. She saw his lips twitch and was amused that he had a good sense of humor.
"You aren't completely healed, Rogue." Jean this time, and she looked worried--she was honestly worried, which was enough to make Marie pause. "If you go out like this--" She stopped, frowning, glancing at the Professor again. "It would be suicide. Give us a few days to find out why Sabretooth wants you--rest a little. If you want to leave then--" her hands traced the air with a peculiar feeling of finality.
Marie glanced between the two, eyes narrowing a little.
"Three days. Then I can leave?"
"Yes," the Professor said firmly--to Jean's evident surprise. "If you wish, I can locate your friend--"
Marie shook her head and laughed softly as she rose.
"No. He'll find me." Then looked at Jean. "I guess you can get me a room? I'm not really big on labs--even nice ones."
Jean dropped into a chair after showing Rogue to her room, leaving her to shower and dress, hopefully rest. Her head ached from the strain she picked up from the girl--even her best shields couldn't hold out the amazing storm of emotions that never touched the girl's face.
"What do you think, sir?"
Charles Xavier was rarely as at a lack for words as he was now, watching the door Rogue had exited with a coolly steady gaze.
"What did the exam show?"
"Her mutation is unusual--energy absorption through tactile stimulation." A soft sigh. "I'm guessing she could kill with it if she wants to."
"Controllable?"
Jean paused, pressing a finger to her lip, then rose, giving the professor a questioning glance, and he nodded quickly as she walked to the wine on the far table. Without ceremony, she poured two glasses and crossed to his desk to hand him a glass before taking a drink, allowing her shields to relax, allowing him to read her conflict.
"I'd say no--"
"But?"
Jean frowned.
"Either she's extremely well-trained in her mutation--which is possible but unlikely--or she can control it and for now chooses not to. Her mannerisms don't point toward an understandable paranoia about being touched, so--" A slow breath. "Did you feel something in her mind--something different?"
Xavier let out a long breath, nodding slowly.
"Someone gave her training in shielding," he answered, turning the glass slowly in his hand. "A telepath perhaps, or she studied advanced meditation. But there was something else--I could sense her--and almost an overlay of something else. Or someone else." A low sigh and he took a sip, considering. "Tactile stimulation causing absorption--possibly someone she's touched, but it was a strong residue."
"It's a permanent part of her personality, but it is definitely foreign." Jean took another drink, shaking her head, trying to coalesce her jumbled thoughts into something comprehensible. "I'm not sure what to think, sir. Excellent reflexes, muscle development--she was trained, of that I have no doubt. I'd like to see her run through the Danger Room simulations--if she's like this injured, I'd like to test her when she's at full strength." Meeting the Professor's eyes, she let him see the interview with Rogue in the lab, smiled a little to see his eyebrows jump in surprise.
"What else did you get off tests?" He was back to hard fact--Jean was in her essence and relaxed.
"Almost no scar tissue--at her age, that's unusual. Excellent muscle tone, reflexes, extremely high physical senses. I'd say upper olfactory and auditory--I could see her reacting to scent and hearing more acutely than even the upper norms. If I can, I'm getting her back in the labs and run a full battery." A pause. "Very strong--it surprised me, that and the shielding."
The Professor nodded slowly.
"Why would Magneto want her?" It was almost to himself, eyes narrowing at the door again. "She's unusual--but there are more powerful mutants, and certainly ones with less--let us say, unusually difficult gifts. If she can control it as you say--she is extremely dangerous."
"You don't think he wants to recruit her?"
"No--Sabretooth almost killed her. Though in his defense, I suspect she was using her mutation on him and it forced him into a corner." A twist of his mouth, as if he'd tasted something unpleasant. "I want to know who she's with and why."
Jean gave Xavier a startled look.
"Is it important?"
"I sensed worry--for him. Several other emotions came through as well--he's important to her."
"She wears army tags."
The Professor looked up, startled.
"Hers?"
"No. I'm assuming his--Wolverine was written on the metal."
The Professor straightened and put down his glass and Jean, startled, put her empty glass down, almost unaware she'd finished it.
"You've heard the name," she breathed. "What?"
A quick shake of his head and Jean stood up, crossing to his desk, planting both palms on the surface.
"Sir?" She ducked her head to meet his eyes. "Who is he?"
"Rumor. Nothing more." He was thinking, putting things together. "I follow some of the underground activities--ones that would attract mutants with nowhere to go. The name Wolverine--a very dangerous fighter and smuggler." A glance up at her, then he frowned again. "AKA Logan, among a few other names that have his particular stamp all over them. He's wanted for violent crimes across the country. He dropped out of sight--I know he was contacted by Eric some time ago, since he had certain connections Eric wanted to exploit. I was evaluating him for possible contact when--" he stopped. "When he disappeared, I assumed Eric had inducted him into the Brotherhood. But if he is attached to Rogue--then there is no reason for Eric to have sent Sabretooth after her."
"Unless Sabretooth has a grudge against her."
It was a thought, and the Professor sighed.
"Or he set her up."
"Unlikely." The Professor sighed again, leaning back in his chair. "It may not be the same man--but Jean, have someone keep watch on Rogue."
Jean felt her eyes begin to burn suddenly and turned her face away. Instantly, Xavier reached out, catching her chin, turning her toward him.
"Jean, it is--"
"This is our home." She bit her lip, fixing her gaze on the surface of the desk. "When I came here, it was the one thing you gave us--safety. To spy on one of our own kind-"
"Jean, it's as much for her protection as ours. To keep that safety. I'll talk to Scott--"
"His paranoia is affecting you. He'd move us all out of the country if he could." She reached down, clasping his hand in hers. "Sir--"
"There is a war coming, Jean. Whatever Eric is planning--if he's using Rogue as bait or--" a pause, then a soft sigh, and she knew this was bothering him as much as it was her. "Jean, to protect ourselves and the other students, it is necessary." Then he freed her, patting her hand gently. "Please ask Scott to speak to Bobby, Remy, and Jubilee. They are near her age--that should keep her comfortable and allay suspicions."
Jean nodded, defeated, and took a step back.
"It's just a precaution, Jean."
"Yes, I know. It's always just a precaution, sir."
With that, she turned on her heel, knowing she'd need to find Scott physically--her emotions were too close to the surface for her to risk the touch of minds. He'd sense too much from her and she'd hear all the arguments again and right now, Jean Summers couldn't handle it.
The room they gave her was rather nice, in an understated way. Comfortable bed, a pile of clothes in the middle fished up from somewhere, complete with gloves--Marie thought she could learn to like it here. After her shower, a subdued Jean showed her the way to the kitchen and the dining room, let her observe the students--yeah, this was definitely a working school. Even observed some classes, remembering vaguely from her own high-school days when the teachers would bring guests to tour the campus.
Jean's quiet surprised her. The natural curiosity she'd expected, even begun to enjoy, was muted, and when the dark eyes met hers--which the spent a lot of time suspiciously avoiding--she saw something vaguely like worry reflected in them. Worse, though, was the scent of fear, too strong even for Marie to ignore. (Marie had more than once wished that particular ability would fade just a little, but periodic exposure had grafted upper level senses into her, like some of the other habits she'd picked up from Logan).
Like right now, damn, she could use a beer. Or three, and maybe a cigar, and looking around, Marie considered asking if they had some--damn, they certainly seemed to have everything else.
It was more than fear, though--frustration, anger, sick worry, only some of which ever seemed to be focused on her. And Marie found herself twitching, rubbing her gloved knuckles absently without meaning to, feeling it like an itch she couldn't reach below the skin of her fingers and caught herself flexing her hand absently and locked her hands behind her back the third time.
"Nice school," she said to Jean, hoping that it would get her mind off whatever the hell was bothering her. Jean smiled a little as they came down the main stairs to the first floor. "More to it, though, right?"
A startled look and an arch of her eyebrows, giving nothing away, and Marie admired her control.
"What makes you say that?"
Marie shrugged.
"The lab is sublevel--and I looked at the elevator numbers and I know how long it takes to go up and down." A pause. "When you went to get me some clothes, your footsteps echoed at over a hundred and ten feet away and anyway the lab just isn't large enough to have a cellar built just for it, ya know?" A pause. "You have video monitoring in the lab that's on a closed circuit--it's well-hidden, I'll give you that, but I could hear the hum from the left far corner of the room. Most schools don't need that. Advanced upper level medical equipment--EKG, CAT, a few I don't even have names for, and a wide variety of drugs. I attacked you and you didn't get scared. Advanced computer function on the desktop with non-government standard encryption technology." Marie paused, seeing the glint of real humor in the woman's eyes. "And of course, the rumors of black-clad superheros who save norms from harm at the hands of other mutants and I do remember enough to remember being rescued myself by several someones all dressed in black." A wicked grin. "I'm not stupid, baby. Though I wanna see a plane that I didn't throw up in."
Jean laughed softly and shook her head.
"We weren't hiding it from you--but that's the Professor's area, not mine. He wanted you to get comfortable and relaxed before he began the big tour." Another smile, and Marie, staring up at the taller woman, suddenly felt that sharp pain of memory for Jamie. Something in Jean eased that ache, though, and she tried to dismiss the instant warmth, the friendship she sensed the other woman wanted to offer, but she just couldn't do it. "He'd like to see you again after dinner tonight. I'm guessing you don't want to have lunch in the dining hall so I thought we could have something to eat in the kitchen and you can ask questions to your heart's content."
Marie laughed.
"Works for me, Red. Just tell me you have steak and you may not ever get rid of me."
After lunch, Jean gave her a map and left her to look around at her leisure, commenting she would meet her before dinner in her room to see if she was up to eating in the main dining hall with the students. Which Marie was a little ambivalent about; even with all the training she had, she had never lost her dislike of crowds--Logan again, damn him, not a people person. On the other hand, it would give her a better idea of life here and the inmates--{like a sanitarium or something, Marie?}--and Marie was still a little dazed at the concept of a place that was built for the education of mutants.
So Marie took the time to study the school, noting the small differences in the decor and the accoutrements--the flame proofing on the material she could smell, the unwaxed floor that had seen the feet and possibly claws of hundreds of students, the little sprinklers--well, a lot of little sprinklers, more than she'd ever seen condensed into so many areas--{hmmm, someone with the ability to control fire, interesting}. What threw her, however, were the students--the gazes were curious, not hostile, and she got smiles and nods when she wandered past the different classrooms Jean had shown her, listening to a tall woman with white hair give a lecture on Imperial Roman civilization while in another room a tall blonde man around her own age grinningly gave a lesson in Calculus while he refroze the ice cubes in his tea.
Very interesting.
After about an hour, she found herself in the large, now-quiet rec room, and Marie dropped on the large worn leather couch to think over her discoveries.
{All right, here's what we know. Xavier's school is acknowledged as a haven for mutants by both sides. Fair enough. Dr. Jean Summers is pretty much a household name. Good so far. And Sabretooth wants me for something. Shit. Two good and one bad--I could have ended up somewhere much worse--like dead.}
"Hey."
A short girl--dark hair, faintly Asian, yellow definitely her favorite color. Marie automatically tensed, saw the girl's eyes widen, and quickly let herself cool down, relaxing back into the cushions and throwing out a casual grin.
"Hey yourself." Tilted her head, letting her eyes follow the girl's progress across the space in front of the television, taking a wary seat on the couch. No fear--curiosity predominant, traces of nervousness--and somehow, even after walking the school, it surprised Marie to pick up so little fear.
"You're Rogue, right?" Almost before Marie could nod, the girl leaned forward. "Jubilation Lee--Jubilee for short. Nice to meet you--in one piece." Easily, the younger girl leaned back again, looking completely at ease now that introductions were complete. "I was there when you were picked up--you put up a hell of a fight." A grin that Marie found herself returning. Absently, she shifted her hands in the gloves--very new, she had to wonder if the Professor had sent to the nearest Wal-Mart or something, or hell, maybe he always had a good supply of gloves sitting around in storage. They were too new, and besides that, her own were usually custom-made by a very nice Calgary leatherworker who made way too much money in business from her. She flexed again inside the material, looking up to see Jubilee's curious gaze.
"Nice to meet you, Jubilee." Another brilliant smile from the girl--she was, what, twenty-one, twenty-two at most?--and the confidence that Jubilee radiated was in a way comforting. Even if she was keeping that couch-length distance between them. Only good sense until you knew, of course, whether the other person was the type to use their mutation just for the hell of it.
"Staying long?" the girl asked as she idly flipped through channels.
"A few days."
Jubilee nodded absently, then dropped the remote, meeting her eyes.
"I guess you're sort of confused, right? It's--" her fingers flickered out, encompassing the entire building. "People who come here are usually a little surprised. Especially other mutants."
"I did notice the high number of fire extinguishers," Marie commented. Jubilee laughed.
"Yes, well, me and John had some control issues for awhile there." A pause, and the dark eyes refastened on her, and Marie got the distinct impression she was being evaluated. "I'm glad you're okay--Jean was pretty worried for awhile there." At Marie's startled gaze, Jubilee continued. "You were pretty torn up--we've seen Sabretooth in action, God knows how you made it out in one piece. Too bad we couldn't get to him--woulda been nice to finally get some answers."
"Answers?"
Jubilee pursed her lips and Marie had the unmistakable impression that she was being evaluated. Then the dark eyes narrowed.
"The Professor says there's a war coming. Between humans and mutants. It looks like Magneto may be throwing the first punch."
Silence--Marie blinked at a name she hadn't really used in two years, because the man that held it had been on her hate list for longer than she could easily remember.
"Magneto. Eric Lensherr, right?"
Jubilee stiffened and Marie felt the sudden presence of the Professor, hovering just above her consciousness. {Interesting.}
"How do you know that name?" And the girl wasn't trying to disguise her curiosity at all, and somewhere in the distant halls, footsteps were approaching rapidly. Which made this accidental brush with Jubilee make sense, and for the first time, Marie really did believe these people were more than idealistic idiots, because they were watching her and that showed good sense.
But even that thought didn't distract her from Jubilee's comment on Eric.
"Tried to recruit L--a friend of mine." A stab of bitterness, remembering him sitting on the edge of her bed, taking her hands, telling her what he'd been doing. The memory lingered--more than anyone, she understood his reasons, understood maybe better than Logan did why he'd made that simple choice that became so complex. "A long while ago."
Jubilee stared at her, but her face was unreadable, and Marie got to her feet, fingers flexing in her gloves. There was a gym--Jean had showed her--it'd been unoccupied. The flares of old hatred were stirring in her--hers and Logan's, all the more powerful, all heat and anger and that perfect edge of cold reason that she'd nurtured so she never fell prey again to the power of emotions in deciding her course of action. With a brief nod, she excused herself, leaving the room.
She guessed that either Jubilee or that other set of feet would be following her, and didn't care.
"Fascinating."
Jean had been surprised when the Professor summoned her, and briefly considered ignoring the request. But when he mentioned Rogue--well, that was all she needed, and she packed her students off to study and went down to the gym.
Behind the observation plexiglass, a crowd had grown. Down at the doors of the gym, she saw some of her own students had followed her and were gathered to watch in utter fascination.
Rogue was working out some aggression. In a most remarkable way.
"What happened?"
"I don't think we need to worry whether or not she is an associate of Eric's," the Professor said dryly, eyes fixed on Marie's rapidly moving form. Jean found herself caught up in the speed of the girl's movements, the sheer unyielding aggression, the pells taking the worst of the damage, and she forced herself into impartiality. Studied every movement of the girl's body with a doctor's clinical interest.
"Para-military training," Jean said instantly. "Special ops, I've seen it before. But she's too young to have gotten that from the military."
"I don't think so either. Advanced martial arts too--someone wanted her to be able to protect herself and protect herself well." A pause. "It seems that the Wolverine is the one I suspected him to be."
"I didn't pick up anything in her mutation to allow for that kind of ability," Jean breathed, mentally reviewing all her tests. "I'm going to ask her to run through another battery tomorrow--full exam top to bottom."
The Professor was tapping an idle rhythm on the arm of his wheelchair, and Jean saw the thoughtful look on his face.
"She absorbed someone with the knowledge and got the physical training to match what she absorbed. Her shielding is low now--she's very upset." Briefly, Jean was given the substance of Jubilee's conversation with Rogue, and let out a breathe.
"I'd say," whispered Bobby from the corner, responding to the Professor's comment. "Sabretooth is lucky he's alive. She weighed even a little more than she does now, he'd be dead. All she has working against her is her lack of mass and height."
Jean watched one small hand press briefly to the girl's abdomen before she executed another kick into the far pell--damn.
"I'm getting down there," she said, rising. "She's reopening her stomach."
It was difficult to get through the crowd--a new mutant was always a novelty. One rescued the way they'd rescued Rogue--again, interesting. One who was rescued from Magneto, who wanted her for reasons unknown--well, it was natural. Fascination factor.
Watching her perform, though--Jean finally got through the doors, crossing the floor warily. She knew the look of someone lost in their own private world, had been there before, more times than she could count. Even knew that it was difficult to snap out of it, and prepared herself mentally before making the first move, knowing the eyes of most of the school were on her.
"Rogue?"
The girl was utterly unaware of anything outside her exercises and Jean took a breath, concentrating on the girl's mind--and the turmoil inside was enough to make her draw back. Instantly, she felt Rogue's awareness of her presence, and turned on her--
--and Jean threw out everything she had, one hand outstretched.
Rogue stopped mid-movement, startled, and Jean waited, the strain on her mind increasing, waited to see the girl snap out of wherever she was--and when the brown eyes met hers, she saw awareness again and lowered her hand, feeling a headache already approaching. Marie staggered at the release, groaning as she clutched her stomach.
"Oh fuck. That hurts."
Jean couldn't help the grin that spread her lips as she reached forward, supporting the girl under the arms.
"That happens when you ignore doctor's orders," she answered, and Rogue looked up, grinning suddenly, nothing behind it at all but pure amusement. "Come on, let's get that checked out."
Sitting her in the lab, she stripped the bandages, checking the stitches carefully. They'd held, but barely.
"No more," she said, as Rogue stretched out on the table and Jean snapped on another pair of gloves before finding the dressings. "At least a week. I can't believe you lasted that long--and I can't believe those stitches held." A quirked smile. "I'm a better doctor than I thought."
"Sorry." She didn't sound too sorry, until she tried to move and Jean pressed a hand to her stomach. A low groan. "Shit. You'd think I'd have a decent amount of pain tolerance by now."
"If I thought'd it work, I'd put you in restraints." Marie grinned and Jean shook her head, applying the dressing again.
"You're very strong. I've run across some kinetics, but none that can do what you do."
"I'm barely in the beginnings of my training," Jean said as she fished out clean bandages and adhesive, finding the dressings she'd prepared in the far cabinet.
"How long have you been the Professor's student?" Marie asked, lifting herself on her elbows to allow Jean to circle the cloth around her back before beginning to apply the adhesive tape.
"Over a decade," Jean answered. Seeing Rogue's surprise, she shrugged. "I went to medical school--once the Professor taught me the basics of control, I decided to continue my education. There. That should hold you." Warily, Rogue sat up, wincing again and growling--Jean filed that away in her memory for future reference. "I'll get you a clean shirt. Just a second."
When she returned, Rogue was sitting up completely, feet dangling over the edge of the bed. With her hair twisted back, she looked unbearably young, but the eyes that stared back at her were very old. It made Jean wonder, but she set the thoughts aside, letting Rogue pull the sweatshirt over her head.
"You were worried earlier. I'm guessing about Eric, if your relaxation is anything to go by." Jean met the girl's eyes, saw the understanding written there. "I'm sorry if my presence is causing it--you don't deserve this on top of everything else you have to deal with." Rogue gestured vaguely around the room, and Jean grinned.
"We always worry. Eric isn't--"
"Isn't a very nice guy," Rogue finished. Then shook her head sharply, grimacing. "For a long time, we didn't know which one of us he wanted--then when we found out--" she paused, then looked away.
"'We'?"
Another pause.
"Logan." Rogue slid off the bed, wincing again. "Damn. Look, you seem like nice people, don't get me wrong--"
"You can trust us."
Marie grinned wryly.
"It's hard, Red. It's been--let's say the last person we trusted, we got someone killed." Jean felt the sadness, ruthlessly controlled burst of violent anger, fingers clenching into her palm. "I'm sorry--"
Jean blinked, staring at the girl's hands. Thinking through every option she had--even a telepath could only receive from someone else, not give, not like she needed to so she could show this suspicious young woman who and what they were.
"Touch me."
Rogue started, staring at her in shock.
"What?"
"Your mutation--you absorb. I've run the tests--I know what you can do."
That was it--Rogue took two steps backward, bumping into the bed, eyes wide.
"Jeannie, sugar, you have no idea what you're asking." Her head began to shake and Jean saw the fingers twitch in their gloves. "It's dangerous, even-"
"You can control it, can't you?" The shock was obvious.
"I can turn it on and off, sometimes," Rogue said shortly, then bit her lip and Jean knew the girl hadn't meant to tell her that. "I can't control flow. It's a dam that I put in place or remove altogether--there isn't any in-between. Jean, you have no idea what I can do to people--"
"And we need your trust." A pause, then Jean stepped forward.
"People have almost died!" There was real panic there, edged with trapped desperation.
"Not if it's brief enough," Jean argued. A part of her--the rational part, as usual, the voice she liked to think of as Scott's--was yelling in her ear, but she tuned it down and out, using her instincts. Before the girl could continue, Jean reached out, taking one gloved hand. "Rogue, I'm a telepath--I'm used to what it feels like, what you can do. I'm giving you trust that you won't kill me." And she pulled out everything she knew as a telepath, every lesson she'd taken, every observation of the Professor's gift, sending all the persuasion, the certainty, that she could. Seeing the shock in Rogue's eyes recede, slowly replaced with understanding. "It will be fast--just enough so you trust us. That's all."
Rogue took a breath, staring at her. Then, slowly, carefully, she peeled away one glove, glancing down at her hand.
"Look at me." Rogue's eyes came up sharply, startled, meeting hers. "Should I sit?"
"Definitely. You--you may lose consciousness," Rogue told her awkwardly. Jean took a seat on the medical bed, bracing her hands on the sides, looking up--her headache was starting, but Rogue was reacting to the mental pressure so carefully applied. Slowly, the girl reached out and she felt the brush of bare fingers against the skin of her face--
--and it was light. Light and bright and she caught her breath at the feeling of a connection opening.
"Oh God," she heard Rogue whisper, and the connection snapped into effect and Jean's body sudden tensed
It all came roaring out, Rogue had been right, there was no dam, no trickle, just the massive load of pure data streaming out of her--Jean wanted to cry out, feeling the drag, couldn't say anything--God, it hurt, and she tried with all her discipline to tamp it down and out so Rogue couldn't feel it, and it went on forever, reliving a thousand memories she hadn't even known she had--
{--"Will you marry me, Jean?"--}
{--"You can't practice at this hospital, mutant,"--}
{--"...get away from me! You're no daughter of mine..."--}
{--"...it's war, Jean. We can't forget that, even if no one else knows."--}
And suddenly it was over and she slumped forward, felt Rogue's arms catch her, dangerous exposed flesh now against her lab coat, rubbing gently against her back. Breathing deeply, she tried to keep consciousness, struggling against the darkness which welled up inside her.
:::Jean?::: The Professor, worried, feeling something go very, very wrong, unable to identify what it was. She couldn't even summon the energy to respond. It was enough that she could breathe.
:::I think y'all should come down here before Jeanie passes out.::: Jean jerked at the sound of Rogue's mental voice in her head, looking up to see Rogue's pained smile. Before her eyes, she watched Rogue's glove, discarded on the floor, slowly slide into the air, hovering beside them. :::This is the other part of the mutation--but I think it's okay for you to know that now.::: A smile, free of anything and everything but understanding and friendship and no suspicion to mar it. :::I understand everything, Red. Let it take you--you'll feel better when you get up. I'll try to explain what we did--lets just hope they ask first, shoot later, 'kay?:::
And the bed was below her back and Jean reached out, using her last energy, reaching the Professor.
:::I asked her for this. Don't do anything, sir.:::
God, she hoped he heard her, before the dark rushed and Jean was overcome.
"Rogue."
Marie looked up from her seat on the conference room table, jumping off as the woman she'd only seen once, Ororo--{Storm, weather, got it}--walked in. A slight smile and Rogue jumped down, frowning slightly at the door. Obediently, though slowly, it closed, and Marie sighed.
"A few more hours, I won't be able to do that." She heard the chagrin in her voice and Ororo took a seat, smiling a little.
"Is it unusual--when you absorb others mutations?"
"Like a new muscle--it just fades after awhile." A pause. "Though sometimes it lingers--don't be surprised if under stress, something starts wandering around the room for no reason. How's Jean? The Professor told me she regained consciousness pretty quickly. Sorry I can't quite remember much of it." It was always like that after, especially with a new personality--she'd spend several hours working it back into her mind, forcing the discipline Leo had taught her to take control, the deep meditation exercises that kept her own personality stable with the addition of a new one hovering, the ability to integrate it into herself.
Ororo's smile widened into a grin and the woman leaned back easily in the chair. Marie was fascinated by her, with the help of Jean's memories, feeling utterly at ease with the paradox of knowing this woman very well and barely having met her.
"Jean's fine--she and Scott and the Professor will be here in a few minutes. I saw you go by my classroom and decided that since we haven't been properly introduced, I should take the time now to do so. How are you feeling?" Ororo asked, apparently noticing Marie's gaze.
"Better. It's sorted out a little--it wasn't a long touch, so it's coming together faster--and I've had some instruction in meditation." A wry grin. "Though I won't ask you about why you seem to have so many interesting noises coming from your room so late at night, as Jean keeps tempting me to do."
Ororo flushed, lowering her head, the smile widening.
"Don't." A pause. "Your friend--the Professor has been looking for him."
"Won't find him. I'd give it another twenty-two hours before he gets here, so no worries." But Marie was worried--never had Logan been in enough trouble to stop him in whatever he was doing, but there was always the alarming possibility that something could go wrong. He'd laugh at her if he had any idea what went through her head--she had to admit, a part of her laughed too--but the rest of her worried. Ororo seemed to sense this, giving her a kind smile.
"He shouldn't have any trouble finding the school."
"He knows where it is." Seeing Ororo's brows raised in surprise, Rogue slipped into the chair near her, bracing her foot on the side of the table. "We've known about you for awhile."
"Ah." Nothing else--Marie was fascinated all over again with the woman's amazing calm. Jean had impressed her, but Ororo left her in the shade--whatever had shaped this woman, it had created something extraordinary. Seeing Marie's gaze, Ororo's brows lifted.
"Sorry," Marie answered. "It's just--" She stopped, seeing the teasing grin on the other woman's face. "It's odd that I know you so well. I don't mean to be rude--it's just very new, to have that. The other people--" she stopped, pausing, and ran an absent hand through her hair. "The others were very different."
"Interesting," Ororo answered, and Marie saw her gaze drop to the glove-covered fingers now relaxed on the table. "Is it hard to control it?" She motioned at Marie's hands. Marie shrugged a little.
"Yes and no. It's hard--it's hard after. Like a dam, I suppose. I can keep it up for hours without effort while conscious, but the aftershocks are hell." Marie lifted her hands. "It's difficult to explain--it acts almost hungry when I have to drop control. So I only control it when it's necessary." And then a smile, remembering the times she controlled it for a particular purpose and seeing Ororo's grin of understanding. "Anyways, I--ah, they're coming."
Ororo frowned, half-rising, but Marie just shook her head. "They just left the elevator." A tap to the side of her head with another grin. "Some abilities I never got rid of."
They only had a moment then before the doors opened, and Marie smiled in relief to see Jean walk in, seemingly no worse for wear--and then a shock at the tall man that walked in protectively behind Jean.
{God, no.}
"Will you stop it?" Jean muttered as she stepped foot out of the elevator. But Scott, being Scott, was also being himself, so she really didn't have much recourse. "I'm fine, everything is fine, and God, what do you think, she's gonna wander around the room and absorb us all to death? She's had lots of chances and I asked, so get over it now."
Scott didn't say anything, but she knew the Professor was talking to him--there were lines on his forehead which always heralded that mental touch, and she bit down on her lip to control her irrational anger that Scott was--well, being Scott-like.
As they came to the door, Jean stepped forward to open it, even as Scott moved to precede her--what the hell did he think was going to happen?--and stepped in, seeing Ororo and Rogue engaging in what appeared to be friendly chat. The girl's head lifted and Jean saw a flash of sheer relief and pleasure and grinned back.
A smile that disappeared the second the girl saw Scott, and that was startling. Even more startling was the sudden shut-down of the girl's mind, leaving a blank space where she'd been, and Jean almost staggered from the shock.
"Jean?" Scott sounded worried, and Jean shook her head. Marie's expression became utterly calm again.
"Rogue." She watched the girl warily take a step forward and quickly crossed to her before Scott could get any more frustratingly protective. "You okay? The Professor said you were pretty out of it for awhile there."
"Fine," Rogue answered easily, shaking her head quickly. "I'm fine. I was worried--I didn't think it would take that much out of you. I'm sorry." Jean dismissed the concern with a wave of her hand, taking the seat on the other side of where Rogue was apparently going to sit and smiling as the Professor wheeled over.
"Nothing a few hours of sleep didn't fix--I haven't been this well-rested in awhile."
"You should notice a slight drain on your mutation," Rogue answered, and frowned, making a pencil slowly lift from the table, under Jean's fascinated gaze. "It decreases in me in the same amount it restrengthens in you." A shrug. "Gotta admit, Red, I'd trade with you. I like opening doors without touching."
"I'm pretty fond of it myself," Jean answered easily as Scott frowned and took the seat beside her. "Rogue, this is my husband, Scott Summers." Rogue's gaze jerked to Scott, and again, Jean felt something odd there--recognition? She couldn't be sure.
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Summers." It was odd, how suddenly stiff the girl was, all easy-going manner gone and instantly, Rogue fixed her gaze on the Professor. "You said you had a few things you wanted to tell me? I'm all ears." And only to a telepath would the falseness ring so clearly--no matter where Rogue was looking, Jean could feel her concentration of Scott in peripheral vision, and it was disconcerting. How could Rogue know Scott, where could she have seen him? It was a mystery--and Jean was a scientist, she loved mysteries.
And damn, didn't this whole meeting interfere with the investigation. Damn.
"Your companion--"
"Logan," Rogue clarified, giving Jean a smile. "Did you get contact from him?" Then a frown. "Though that's really not his style, and anyway, he won't be here yet."
Xaiver's curiosity was obvious.
"How do you know that so certainly?"
Rogue flushed suddenly, and Jean watched the color, fascinated by the sudden discomfort.
"We were supposed to meet in LA--and I sort of got sidetracked. Three days for him to find out I didn't come, two days to track where I went, and two days to get here. I know him pretty well." Another smile. "I'm not worried."
The Professor looked at her thoughtfully.
"How long have you known Logan, Rogue?" Jean noted the folder on the table in front of him and sighed to herself.
"Five years. We met in Alberta. Why?" Rogue's eyes went to the folder and her eyebrows arched. "Ah. Yeah. That stuff."
"You know about it?" he asked.
"Some," she admitted. "Not all. He's pretty private when it comes to some of his--less scrupulous pursuits. Though it's impossible not to know some of them." With one hand, Rogue gestured and Xavier let her pull the folder across the table. Rogue frowned, rubbing her head. "I take back what I said, Jeanie. This is giving me a headache." Then flipped open the folder, going through the reports. "Wow. You've got quite a sizeable dossier."
"I like to keep track of mutants in the underground."
"Hmm. Police reports. You're thorough" She flipped two sheets over, eyebrows arching sharply, an indrawn breath that surprised Jean, before her lips compressed sharply.
"Rogue?"
"Nothing." She lifted up a sheet. "High school." Another. "College." Then a third. Training." Then a final one, which made her mouth go tight. "Safety." And dropped it, looking at Xavier, and Jean wasn't sure what that expression on the girl's face meant. And her mind was so shut down that Jean couldn't even begin to penetrate it, though she suspected the Professor was able to and was also able to understand, if the look on his face was any indication.
"Okay," she said finally, and slammed the folder shut with a wave of her hand. "No problems. Anything else? I'm kind of tired." And the girl rose easily--Xavier nodded with a smile and Jean, after a single glance at him, rose as well.
"I'm about to have dinner--would you like to join me?"
"I'm not up to a dining room experience, Red," Rogue said absently, and Jean saw the fingers twist together briefly. Gently, she covered them with hers.
"Private. I can go over some test results with you if you like." Giving Scott a glance to stop him mid-rise, she smiled again. "Let's go."
"So are you going to tell me about you friend?"
Rogue dropped the spoon in the bowl, startled, meeting Jean's eyes in surprise.
"What makes you think I will?"
Jean waved around the quiet kitchen with a spoon, giving Rogue a smile.
"I might have sensed you felt comfortable enough to share," Jean answered, and Rogue's face gave it away completely. With a sigh, she relaxed into her chair. "Anything you say to me goes no farther, Rogue, I give you my word."
"It's not secret, exactly," Rogue answered, picking up her spoon and taking a bite of her sandwich before continuing. "Just--habit, you know? For awhile, we couldn't afford to have our names linked--after Laughlin, it wasn't--" Rogue stopped, frowning a little in concentration, then nodded, almost to herself. Jean, with utter care and knowing Rogue would sense it, let her mind open and Rogue grinned. "You're thinking about the romance, aren't you? It wasn't romantic, Jean."
"Show me," Jean said softly. Startled dark eyes came up, staring into hers briefly, then Rogue pressed the bowl and plate aside, extended a gloved hand, taking Jean's very willing one in hers. Their eyes met.
"Between the two of us, I think I can still--" Marie concentrated again, and then smiled as Jean let out a startled breath at the sudden projection that took up the entire world. "Yeah, this way will work better--I'm gonna miss this ability, Red, no question." A wavering--Rogue simply didn't have the experience to deal with telepathy, but Jean's more practiced assistance brought it together again, and Jean had the images from Rogue's mind. "Logan sort of rescued me from a little detention problem in Laughlin City. Everything gets a little complex after that, though--"
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Title of this part borrowed from Kat Hughes. Format of the story from the wondrous D'Alaire of Voyager fandom, whom I worship, all respect to you. I'll be working in alternative time frame by part, so there shouldn't be any confusion on what is going on. Feel free to email me if you wonder where my head is. If you're getting through Illusions, you know what I'm doing. Dedication: To the WR chick that got me started with the whole what if scenario. To Sare for the encouragement and plotbunnies tossed at one in the morning, everyone who read this (and who did I end up sending it to?) for liking the idea, and the WR list, where the residents tends to spend most of their free time feeding my little obsession. Donna for doing an AIM beta at the sheer speed of light. Thank you VERY much, I owe you big time babe.