Monday
“No way - we did not let that bunch of military freaks loose from the grave,” Jubilee snapped the words over their lunch break. “No way in hell, I don’t accept that at all.”
“Who died and made you Queen of Denial?” Bobby commented around his sandwich.
Kitty sat in thoughtful silence through the exchange, then posed, “Maybe it was our imaginations. I mean, there are documented cases of mass hallucinations. Suppose we just ‘thought’ we saw soldiers?”
“No,” Rogue whispered, her gaze focused through the windows to the autumnal carpet of colors in the woods beyond the grounds. “We did it.”
“You really do believe this metaphysical stuff, don’t you?” Bobby looked incredulous.
“Yeah. We made a mess. Now we gotta figure out how to clean it up,” Rogue spoke softly before sipping her tea.
“We? You’re the resident ‘expert’,” Kitty was getting tense. “This was just supposed to be an experiment, some spooky fun for Halloween.”
“Wait a minute, Kit-Kat,” Jubilee broke in, “you were just as anxious to jump into this as anyone else, so don’t go lumping it all on Roguey’s shoulders.”
“How was I supposed to know she could actually ‘do’ anything like raise the dead,” Kitty’s voice grew louder and Jubilee stood up, pointing down into her face.
“You were right in there the whole way; the research, doing the deed, the whole nine yards, so don’t you try to blame her for...”
“Let’s lower our voices, ladies, because people are starting to stare,” Bobby interjected, before both Kitty and Jubilee turned to him, anger showing on their faces.
“Stop it! Just stop it!” Rogue yelled, then checked herself, tightened her gloves, and folded her shaking hands in her lap. Scanning the room, she noticed the Professor observing them from across the room. With a soft smile and a nod of the head, he turned back to the conversation around him. “There are too many people listening here, and on too many levels, if you get my drift,” she nodded toward the telepath and toward Logan who had been talking quietly with Pete at another table, but had now focused on Rogue’s table. Giving him a smile and a nod, she waved assuringly and returned to her lunch tray.
“Sorry,” Kitty murmured, “it’s just... this is freaking me out, and I don’t know what to do.”
“Same here,” added Rogue, with Bobby and Jubes nodding their agreement.
Classes and training filled the remaining day, and that night Rogue noted Logan passing through the hallway toward the front door. “Going out for the night, sugar?” She stepped briskly beside him, matching her steps to his.
“Yeah, sometimes this place gets a little too close for me. Need some breathing space for a while,” Logan jammed his hands in his jacket pockets and stepped aside as they neared the door, looking straight at her. “You okay? You’ve been a little tense lately,” he waited expectantly for her answer.
“I’m fine, just distracted. Lotta weird stuff that doesn’t make sense.”
“You wanna sort through it with me, ‘cause I got time, or you gonna let it simmer?”
“I’m simmerin’,” she nodded with a smile. “If I hit a hard boil, I’ll let you know. Have fun, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” The left eyebrow went up at that comment. “Oh, go on! Go have some adult fun that I’m not supposed to know about in my innocent role of little sister. Shoo.” She fluttered her fingers at him, indicating the door.
Rogue noted Logan’s eyes graze slowly over her, taking in every little detail from her hair to her body to her eyes. Her skin seemed to grow suddenly too warm and too tight as he considered her. Leaning in toward her ear, Logan’s voice dropped to that gravel-whisper that made women melt and men check their proximity to the nearest exit. “Little sister, my ass. You’re way too hot for that,” and with a wink he slipped out the door, leaving Rogue standing there in shock.
Rogue played the scene over and over in her head until she finally fell asleep. Logan had not yet returned and she needed some rest for the next day’s full slate of classes. Waking later in the night, she started to pull on a robe, then remembered the benefits of having a private room and headed for the bathroom in her nightie, barefooted. Giving up the dorm room with Jubes and the others had been a little lonely at first, but she was adjusting to having her own space again with no need to worry about bumping into anyone without layers of clothing for protection.
Flushing the toilet, she sleepily regarded herself in the bathroom mirror in the low light. Bed-head might be an acquired taste, but she wore it well. Smiling muzzily at her image in the mirror, she reached for the light switch. Once again, movement in the mirror reflected from behind her caught her attention, and she gazed into the silvered surface to see the camo-painted face glaring at her. The scream that came unwittingly from her own mouth shattered her nerves as the man loomed behind her, hands raised to grab her throat. Whirling to face him, she fell instantly into the training Logan had been hammering into them: do not give up the element of surprise if you have it. Fight if you can’t run, and be quick and deadly. She folded her palm upward, intending to smash the heel into his nose, breaking it and possibly killing him if she was fast enough and strong enough, but the sight of his face when she whirled shocked her.
The soldier was standing there, looking at her, his face hanging in rags of flesh. Bloody slashes across his cheeks and throat left little to resemble a human face. Gagging back the urge to vomit, Rogue screamed again as the breath rattled and bubbled from his sagging, slashed mouth. He pressed closer to her, pinning her against the sink, and when she finally snapped into attack mode again, her fist shot out and passed completely through him.
He was gone.
Vanished.
She was alone in the room, trembling and in shock, and not completely able to accept that it had been a bad dream, or a non-corporeal ghost, because there were drops of blood on the bathroom floor at her feet.
Panting and shaking, Rogue forced deep breaths and leaned against the sink for support while she pulled herself together. Someone was pounding on her door, forcing her out of the bathroom. Opening the door quickly, she let Storm enter, worry etched on the woman’s face. “Rogue, what’s wrong? I heard you screaming.” Storm’s gaze lowered, her eyes registering shock. Rogue looked down and saw blood splattered on her own gown. “Are you hurt? Let’s go to Med Lab right now,” Storm was using her own sleeve to reach a steadying hand to Rogue’s arm.
“No, I’m all right. It’s not what you think....” Rogue scrambled for an excuse to cover her appearance, but came up blank.
“Then why were you screaming in the middle of the night, and I find you here splattered with blood?” Storm’s chocolate eyes were calming her slowly, but Rogue knew there would be no back-pedaling from this -- she would need a legitimate explanation.
“I... I... Did you see anyone...” A male roar from down the hallway was followed by several loud crashes, and Rogue instantly knew that Logan had returned in the night and was in full-assault mode.
“Wait here where it’s safer,” Storm threw at her before running toward the commotion. Rogue rolled her eyes and was hard on Storm’s heels as both women raced down the hallway. A stream of profanity and shouts poured from behind Logan’s closed door. Students with bleary eyes and tense faces were starting to peer from the stairwells at the noise. Rogue could hear the babble of fear-filled voices, and began to wonder herself if they were having a repeat performance of Stryker’s raid.
“Logan!” Storm yelled once, and pounded on the door once. With no response and no end to the shouts from within, Storm turned the knob and flung the door open.
Bathed in moonlight from the window, Rogue could see Logan’s silhouette. He was crouched in attack, claws gleaming in the thin light, and three uniformed figures surrounded him. The curtains hung in shreds and the bed clothes were ripped as if he’d woken suddenly with the claws out.
Storm stopped in shock when one of the figures turned to her. Her shaking hand covered her mouth as the light from the hallway illuminated the soldier before her. Six gaping holes in the man’s torso bubbled bloody froth as he wheezed breaths in and out of punctured lungs. He raised a hand with a gun, aiming straight for the two women framed in the doorway, as Rogue grabbed Storm and pulled her to the floor. Logan roared and leaped over the bed, ignoring the two men by the window and drove both fists of claws into the man’s back, who simply vanished.
Whirling back to the other uniforms, he saw them fade into thin air as well. Panting and confused, Logan turned again to the women, noting Bobby coming up behind them looking white as a sheet. “Are you okay?” he ground out as they nodded. “What the fuck was that?”
Snapping into X-Men mode, Storm gained her feet and turned to Bobby, rushing out, “Check every floor for intruders. Rogue, go to Security and check the monitors for anything unusual. Logan, go...”
“Wait, Storm, wait...” Rogue spoke up. “There aren’t any... uh... intruders.”
“Then what the fuck do you call that guy who just put you both in his cross-hairs?” Logan swore at her, then checked himself slightly.
“I recognized that one,” Bobby spoke softly from the hallway. Then in an even quieter voice, he added, “They’re not.... real.”
Logan flipped the lights on, standing in boxers only, then noticed the blood splattered on Rogue’s nightgown. “Kid, what happened?” he frowned and sniffed, then cocked the eyebrow at her. “That ain’t your blood.”
It was time to spill the beans to everyone. Rogue spread her hands, palms downward, in a soothing gesture, and the words just spilled out, “There are no intruders here tonight. We just saw ghosts. The mansion is haunted.” She looked around her at the unbelieving eyes, and shrugged.
With Security checked and the students herded back to bed, the group gathered in the kitchen to work through their experience. Logan had tugged on jeans and nothing else, and sat on the counter, legs dangling as he sucked down a beer. Bobby dug into ice cream to settle his nerves while Rogue and Storm poured steaming mugs of coffee for themselves. Logan broke the tension first, “Okay, what the hell just happened up there?”
Storm looked to Rogue for an explanation. Bobby ate a giant spoon of vanilla to keep his mouth occupied. With a sigh, Rogue started, “Okay. Believe it or not is up to you, but here’s the story: four of us held a seance on full moon as an experiment, and Logan saw us, then we ‘thought’ we saw something that night, but weren’t sure, and now apparently the mansion is haunted by the soldiers that died here during Stryker’s raid,” she rambled through in one breath, then added, “Any questions?”
Logan snorted and drained his beer, sliding off the counter for another bottle from the fridge.
“Are you sure they are ghosts?” Storm asked gently, then added, “Could they be some sort of mental projection from a telepath, or a hallucination of some sort? I’m trying to explore more approaches than just the obvious one.”
Bobby found the will to speak at last, and countered that theory, “I told you I recognized the one guy, the one who was aiming a gun at Rogue and Storm.” His eyes finally came up from the bowl of ice cream, “I knew him immediately, because the last time he raised a gun at someone, it was me, right here, while I was eating ice cream, just like tonight.” He looked a little queasy and shoved the bowl away. “It was the night of the raid. That guy came in here, raised his gun at me, and Logan nailed him from behind. They struggled, then the guy had a knife and was going for Logan’s throat, so Logan body-slammed him against the fridge and punched all six claws through the guy’s chest. He went down, right there at the fridge door. That was him tonight. I’d know him anywhere, from the camo to the gun to the six holes in his chest.” Bobby’s blue eyes met Logan’s, asking for confirmation, but Logan stayed silent.
Storm waited a moment, then pressed the issue, “Logan, is all of that accurate from what you remember of the night of the raid?”
Reluctantly draining his second beer, Logan finally nodded some agreement, “I don’t remember a lot of fine details like that, because once I’m in it, you know, over the edge like that, some of it becomes a blur. But yeah, that’s what happened, and I thought I recognized them, too. I....” he froze for a long while, and Rogue thought she might have a light stroke before he finally finished the thought, “I don’t think we can chalk off any of this stuff to mental projections or hallucinations or anything like that, because there was no one else in the room but me and Bobby when that guy tried to take us out; no witnesses, nobody knew. So if he’s back, then it’s not because of me, and I don’t think it’s because of you, Drake,” Logan nodded confirmation at Bobby, who relaxed back into his chair. “No one else knew about him, or exactly what happened to him, so I doubt that it’s anyone playing games with our heads. The other three that were in my room just now - I took them out in the hallways, cut ‘em down, alone. No one saw it. A ghost, however, is a stretch of the imagination, especially since you’re splattered in blood that isn’t yours,” he nodded to Rogue.
“I don’t understand that part either. I always thought ghosts were just projections, like energy fields, that you couldn’t touch, and they couldn’t touch you, either,” Rogue added, her voice displaying her confusion and weariness.
“So what do we do about it?” Storm posed the question to the silent room.
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