Xavier and Rogue sat in the field, surrounded by an odd assortment of containers -- the cigar box and rusty toolbox, an old jelly jar, a shoebox, a church collection box, a picnic basket, an elaborately carved chess set, a music box, a pill bottle, and finally the smooth obsidian stone box containing Azazel.
Xavier was fatigued, but pleased with Rogue’s accomplishments. Only one task remained.
They both looked toward the wall. “When you are ready,” Xavier said gravely.
Rogue flopped on her back in the soft grass. “Do I really have to?” she said -- only half jokingly, he suspected.
“I am afraid you do, my dear. But do not be discouraged. The voices are contained. What remains on the other side of that wall are memories -- some good and some bad, but all of them are yours. It is time that you claim them. They have made you the person you are.”
She pushed herself up on her elbows, and then sat up, considering the wall. Finally she stood up. “How do I do it?”
“It is in essence your mind, Rogue. You have control over what occurs.”
Rogue nodded and walked up to the wall. She touched it, and as a small section in front of her tumbled Xavier saw her brace herself against the memories that were freed. What must it be like, experiencing a lifetime of memories in such a short amount of time? Even from his shared perspective inside her own mind, he found it difficult to imagine.
Rogue continued along the wall, one hand trailing the edge, as the stones tumbled in her wake. Finally she stopped. One push from her and the wall crumbled as far as Xavier could see, into the horizon in both directions. It settled into dust and then disappeared, leaving only the green field behind.
Xavier waited patiently while Rogue assimilated the rest of her memories, her body buffeted from time to time by the force of her recollections. Finally it was done, and she sank back down into the grass, panting.
Xavier sat down beside her.
“What now?” she asked after a few minutes had passed.
“Now...we rejoin our friends. They are very concerned for you.”
She looked at him, and suddenly her eyes seemed much older than her years. “Don’t underestimate me, Mr. Xavier. I appreciate all the help you’ve given me -- more than I could possibly say -- but don’t patronize me, even if you think you’re protecting me.”
“Rogue?” It was not often that someone had the ability to catch him off guard.
She gestured behind her, but did not turn her head. “I can feel it. Every time I try to focus on it it slips away, but I know it’s there. Were you not going to tell me?”
He felt a flush of embarrassment. Yes, he had underestimated her. And in an attempt to protect her -- to protect them all -- he had been unbearably condescending.
They both stood up, and turned. He gestured again. Another wall appeared, but this one was massive -- seamless and measureless, stretching as high as they could see and to the horizon in both directions.
Rogue drew in her breath sharply, backing up a few steps in apprehension.
“I was going to tell you, Rogue. But I will admit, not today.”
“Why couldn’t I see it?”
“Emma Frost had shielded it from you.”
She tentatively approached the wall, but did not touch it. “And Sebastian -- he’s behind there? Not the little bit that I put away already, that I got when the treatment went wrong,” -- she gestured at the pill bottle -- “But all those times he did the treatment, with Emma directing it -- he went behind this wall?”
“Yes. They hoped to transfer enough of him until he was strong enough to take over, and then Emma would remove this wall.”
Her eyes met his -- too wise, too knowing. “And you believe they succeeded. That behind this wall Sebastian is strong enough to take over. To kill me and take my body.”
“I simply don’t know, Rogue. But it is a risk. And one I hoped to protect you from, until you were more secure. More ready to face it.”
“So I’m strong, but not stronger than him. Even in my own mind,” she challenged. She suddenly paused, reading something in his expression perhaps, her voice more tentative as she continued. “You’re afraid of him.”
“Yes.” He was loathe to admit it, but it was the truth. “He is very powerful -- as strong as any human or mutant I’ve ever known. And you have absorbed a great deal of him, repeatedly.” He gestured again, and the wall disappeared. “Are you ready to go back now, Rogue? We will be arriving at the mansion soon, and Logan has been very worried.”
“Logan,” she repeated, and from within her mind as he was, he couldn’t help catching the turmoil of emotion that accompanied her thoughts of the man.
“Forgive me for being an old meddler, Rogue, but I believe that you and Logan have much to discuss. We are all in the midst of a crisis right now, but...” He placed a hand on her shoulder again. “When things have calmed down a bit, I hope that the two of you will have the chance to speak.”
She nodded.
“Good. Let’s return, shall we?”
______________
Marie opened her eyes, squinting against the glare of the jet’s overhead lights, jarred by the transition from the sunny green field to the stark cold jet. For a brief moment she caught a glimpse of Logan’s warm hazel eyes, and then she was pressed hard against his chest, his arms wrapped around her like steel bands, squeezing her so tight she thought she might break.
“Don’t ever do that again,” she heard him growl -- the words vibrating against her ear where it was pressed against his chest, the cold zipper of his jacket digging into her cheek -- and she would have laughed if she had enough breath.
“I’ll try not to,” she managed, closing her eyes and breathing in his familiar scent along with the smell of the soft leather, heated by his body. She felt safe and warm in his arms -- she felt like she was home.
“Rogue...” he rasped. She waited, but he didn’t say any more. She nuzzled into his chest a little more.
“Marie,” she finally confided.
“Marie,” he repeated, his voice thick with emotion, his arms tightening even further around her. And then a different tone, as he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Marie.” His voice was formal -- even distant that time -- and he sat back, dropping his arms from around her.
She blinked against the bright light, feeling suddenly bereft, the loss of Logan’s warmth making her want to shiver. He was in a chair across from her, his expression unreadable. She realized she was sitting on a cot, and wrapped her hands around the cold metal edge, feeling self-conscious under Logan’s cryptic gaze and the carefully averted glances of the other X-Men.
The soft whir of a motorized wheelchair caught her attention and she felt slightly dizzy again as she looked into the familiar blue eyes, now looking at her keenly from an ascetic, elderly face. When he spoke, however, his voice was the same, and the slight twinkle of mischief in his eyes allowed her to merge the image of the sandy-haired young man from her mind with this older, more serious persona.
“I am so glad to see you well, Rogue.”
She smiled. “Thank you so much for all your help, Mr. Xavier.”
“I hope in time you will feel comfortable calling me Charles.” He reached out to pat her gloved hand, and they were both startled by a growl from Logan.
“Logan?” Marie peered up at him, but he had already turned away, busying himself with one of the readouts.
Marie met Xavier’s eyes again, and he smiled reassuringly. “We will be landing at the mansion in a few minutes, my dear. Our minds will be somewhat linked for some time, so if you need anything, you need only to call.”
This time she reached out and took his hand. “Thank you again. For everything.”
He smiled and squeezed her hand for a brief moment before joining the others in a bustle of pre-landing activity. Her eyes were continually drawn to Logan, but he studiously avoided her gaze, seeming as fierce and distant as before, his shoulders bunched with tension under the tight leather of his uniform jacket.
She watched in amazement as the mansion appeared, lit up like a birthday cake despite the fact that it was near dawn. Ororo hovered the jet over a basketball court, which slowly opened up as she gently landed the plane inside the voluminous hangar that was revealed.
Ororo lowered the ramp, slowly revealing another contingent of strangers. Marie tried not to goggle at the blue-furred mutant, reading glasses precariously balanced on his wide flat nose. The others appeared to be Kitty’s contemporaries -- a young preppy-looking blond man, a massively muscle-bound individual with an unexpectedly gentle expression, and a young Asian woman dressed in bright yellow who seemed to be practically fizzing with nervous energy.
Logan strode commandingly down the ramp, Scott close behind him. Marie heard them urgently discussing something about trying to track the movements of Shaw’s helicopter, Xavier offering suggestions regarding satellite repositioning as he wheeled down the ramp behind them.
She stood uncertainly, still feeling like she was getting her bearings, reluctant to face so many new people.
“Come, child,” Ororo said gently, and Marie took a deep shaky breath, following her down the ramp toward the sound of Logan’s voice still barking orders.
“Kitty and Bobby -- you get on that satellite tracking. Piotr, I’ll give you the surveillance codes to Shaw’s cameras if he hasn’t changed them already, see if you can tell what’s going on out there, especially if he’s gathering his forces for an offensive. Doc, I want you to come up with a kit to counteract anything Jeannie may have been given to keep her out. We have four or five hours tops to find Jeannie before Shaw moves her, and then she’s as good as dead -- and if he’s connected me to the mansion and he comes here instead, we may all be dead men walking.”
Marie flinched at Logan’s harsh assessment. These people were friends of Jean Gray. If Logan hadn’t been busted trying to help her escape he would still be at Shaw’s mansion right now, finding out where Jean Gray was being held. Now they were all in danger because of her.
“Jubilee, this is …” -- Marie wondered if she was the only one to detect that hesitation -- “...Rogue. Find her a room, okay, and a change of clothes. Rogue, get some rest. Everyone else, meet back in the war room in 30 minutes, and you better bring some goddamn answers with you.”
The one he called Jubilee cut her eyes to Marie, obviously not happy about having been given babysitting duty. “Wolvester, why don’t I...”
Logan rounded on her, his eyes blazing, his voice a whiplash snarl. “Goddamn it, Jubilee, just fuckin’ do what I tell you. Now go!”
He had already turned away, but Marie saw the girl’s mouth pinch into a straight line, tears standing out briefly in her eyes before she marched away. Marie hurried to keep up, following the girl in silence down a metal corridor, up in an elevator, and then through a maze of wood-paneled hallways. Marie passed room after room strewn with child- and teen-sized clothes and sports equipment, but all the rooms were empty, doors hanging haphazardly ajar.
“Where is everyone?” she asked.
“Evacuated,” Jubilee replied, her voice angry and flat. Now Marie remembered Logan’s words as they had arrived at the jet. All those children, woken up in the dead of night and forced from their home -- because of her. They must have been terrified. Thinking of it made Marie nauseous. What kind of disaster had she brought down on these people?
She felt the need to apologize to Jubilee, but the sight of her stiff back kept her silent. Still, she had to try...
“Listen, Jubilee. I’m sorry, about Shaw maybe coming here. And I’m sorry Logan spoke to you like that back there...”
She knew right away she had said the wrong thing. Jubilee’s spine stiffened further, her pride obviously stung. She assumed an expression of disinterest, shrugging. “You think that bothered me? Like, whatever. Wolvester can snap all he wants. ‘Sides, his panties are all in a twist about Jeannie. Everyone knows he’s been in love with her like forever...”
Marie managed a few more steps in numbness before Jubilee’s words actually sank in. Then she stumbled, knees suddenly giving way, her hand reaching out to the paneling to steady herself. She felt lightheaded and nauseous, Jubilee’s words combining with her own sudden realization, making her feel like she had been gutshot.
Logan. In love with Jean Gray. Of course. It had been right there in front of her the whole time. He had practically told her as much -- that he was risking his life to find Jean. If he had been allowed to, he would have left Marie with these people and returned to find Jean. How had she managed to be so dense?
Jubilee seemed to realize Marie was no longer trailing behind, turning in irritation. “Hey, keep up why doncha...” Marie didn’t know what Jubilee read in her face, but the disinterested expression dropped like a mask. “Hey -- are you okay? You look like shit.”
Marie shook her head, straightening up with an effort. “I’m fine...just...”
“Oh shit.” The look on Jubilee’s face would have been comical under other circumstances. “Are you...and Wolvie...?” she started, incredulously.
“No, nothing like that. I’m just tired.” It sounded unconvincing even to Marie’s own ears, and she had to turn away from the look of pity on the young girl’s face.
“Listen, don’t worry about what I said...” Jubilee said earnestly. “I mean, everyone knows, I’m a horrible gossip. I get everything wrong, all the time. Seriously, just...”
They had stopped in front of a door and Marie didn’t care if it was a broom closet, she had to get away from Jubilee’s contrite backpedaling before she died of humiliation.
“This is great...I’m just really tired...thanks so much, Jubilee.” She shut the door practically in the young girl’s face, unable to care how rude she must seem, just wanting to be alone before she fractured. Her numb legs carried her to the bed and she sank down on it, taking shallow breaths, trying to pull herself together.
Logan. In love with Jean, and Marie had prevented him from finding her. Had distracted him from his investigation with her troubles. Had practically sentenced Jean to her death so that Marie could escape Shaw. She thought of Xavier, sensing her feelings about Logan and urging her to talk to him, and cringed. She must have been so transparent -- how Xavier must have pitied her, for him to try to warn her. No wonder Logan could barely stand to look at her, knowing she lived while the woman he loved was somewhere dying...
The thoughts churned around and around in her head as she acted on autopilot, undressing and turning the shower in the adjoining bathroom to a scalding temperature. She stepped in and let the water rush over her, the prickling painful heat reddening her traitorous skin, washing the tears away as quickly as they fell. When the water started to run cold she stepped out, her wet hair plastered to her cheeks. Someone had left grey sweats on the bed while she was in the bathroom, and she pulled them on before crawling into the bed.
Logan. She could admit it now. She loved him. She loved him, and he loved Jean, but still he had helped her. Had saved her. Had brought danger to everyone he loved, including the woman he loved, just to get her free of Shaw. Even now he was downstairs, desperately trying to find the woman he loved, while Marie cowered up here, hurting and helpless.
The idea ran through her like an electric shock. No, not helpless. She abruptly sat up, throwing the covers back and wiping her hair away from her face with shaky hands. There was one thing she could do. She might fail miserably, but it was a chance. She could do this. For Logan -- a chance for his happiness, with the woman he loved.
She thought of Xavier’s words. Funny how she already thought of him as a friend. She hoped he would not feel betrayed by what she was about to do. She concentrated, sending him a mental call -- part warning, part apology.
I’m sorry Charles...I have to do this...I have to try. You know why.
Then she shut him out of her mind, focusing her thoughts inward, creating within her mind a sunny field. She gestured, and a stone wall appeared, seamless and measureless. She took a deep breath, gathering her strength, and reached out to touch it.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Wherein the other shoe drops. Don't hate me, you know I'll make it all work out okay in the end. ;-)
Chapter End Notes:
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