The occupants in the room all moved forward for a better look. The hope in the air was almost tangible and Scott cleared his throat to bring down the buzz of conversation that broke out amongst them. He turned to Hank and asked, “When did this happen?”
“Last week. Thursday to be exact, at 3:42am.” Hank manipulated the large touch screen on the table next to him and brought forward six separate graphs, each with distinct wave patterns. He enlarged the one labeled ALPHA. “This one monitors contra lateral sensory and motor cortical areas which typically emerge when the body is idle. It would respond to eye opening or mental exertion. It had remained idle, as one would expect with a comatose patient, but you can see here,” he enlarged a portion where there was a brief fluctuation in the wave, “there was a definite spike which was the date and time I’ve mentioned. But this is the one I wanted to share with all of you.” Hank was practically shaking with excitement as he swiped his hand across the screen to access an older reading.
There were audible gasps as everyone saw the wave sharply turn into high peaks, densely concentrated together. “This was Wednesday before last, at 2:37pm. The episode lasted until 2:40pm, a full three minutes. All this time I had been focusing on measuring potential neural responses from outside physical stimuli, and hadn’t thought to look for any activity outside of those time frames. But it is evident that Charles is becoming capable of thought, and independently so.”
Scott turned to Emma, who was standing next to him. “That was when you arrived at the mansion. Did you feel something at that time?”
Her face was expressionless. “I didn’t detect anything telepathically that would indicate Charles’ regaining brief consciousness, no.”
~ Logan, they’re going to figure it out. Ororo is already thinking about…- ~
“That’s just after the argument Rogue and I had.”
~ …and there you have it. Cat’s scratching to jump out of the bag, darling. ~
“You think the professor was aware of the disagreement between you and Rogue?” Jubilee frowned, looking over to Remy and instinctively, he reached for her hand in comfort. Rogue had been very clear she wanted to be left alone so she could focus on her new commitment with the Avengers, and that meant no contact, no communication from any of them outside of Logan. Remy’s face reflected his own sadness. Accepting Rogue’s decision to leave the X-Men was proving difficult not just for Jubilee, but for all of them. And the distress over Charles’ condition added to the already somber atmosphere in the mansion.
“It would certainly appear so,” Hank replied in answer to Jubilee’s question. “Somehow, some way, Charles responded to unknown telepathic stimuli both times. The latest one was in the middle of the night and lasted only a few seconds. It’s the previous longer episode I am hoping we can explain.” His eyes rested on Ororo. “What precisely transpired between you and Rogue?”
The weather controlling mutant filled him in; flushing in remembrance of the harsh words she shared with their former team mate. Kurt became disturbed, hearing her. Rogue’s hostility and suspicion of the professor went against everything he knew their relationship to be, just as much as Charles’ reaction to his foster-sister leaving the X-Men had been out of character as well. That she might have siphoned power from Storm was even more concerning and the thought that entered his mind frightened him. Was Rogue losing control like she had years ago? Was that why the professor had wanted her restrained?
Scott focused on Emma again. “Didn’t you say you tried to reach out to Rogue and she was able to psionically prevent you from reading her mind?”
Emma forced herself to not look at Logan. “Yes. But the ability of ferals to block out telepathic enquiry is quite common.”
~ I don’t think I can hide Rogue’s responsibility for Charles’ condition from Scott much longer, Logan. He mistrusts me enough as it is. ~
I know, Queenie. Just give me some time.
~ I’ll give you until the end of week, Logan, after you return from your mission in San Francisco and before I return to Boston. But that’s it. He deserves to know. ~
You’re not stayin’?
Emma didn’t respond, but the sudden rush of heartache that spilled from her was explanation enough. Bemused, he looked to Scott. The scent of the White Queen was all over the X-Men leader, and was his on her, and it told Logan that they were together sexually as recently as that morning. But the hard set of Scott’s jaw and his deliberate step away from Emma when she had first walked into the room told Logan that things between the two mutants must not be going well.
“That was around the time Laura began to breathe on her own,” Logan contributed, looking down at the professor and taking in the newer, more complex EEG scalp cap now covering the powerful telepath's head. “Could be that Chuck was reactin’ to her suddenly becomin’ conscious before Hank knocked her out again. That could explain the other time too, when I was out in the woods after findin’ out about Daken. Both times would have left me and Laura open to telepathic communication. Maybe he responded to that.”
“That sounds like a very likely reason as well. Either way, this is good news, da?” Piotr’s tremulous smile was returned by his lover. Jean-Paul knew he wouldn’t be able to fill the gaping hole left behind by the resignation of Rogue, but he decided to stay on none-the less, knowing the man he loved needed his support. That the X-Men needed help to protect their school from the potential threat of attack cemented his decision to accept Scott’s invitation to remain as well.
“Oh yes,” Hank agreed happily, his gaze sweeping over the crowd of X-Men standing around him. “At the very least, my dear friends, it proves that Charles is fighting.”
Logan's face clouded over as he continued to look at the inert man lying on the bed. He had hoped Rogue would admit what she had done before she left for Manhattan but she hadn’t said a word. Logan’s face darkened further at the prospect of confronting his mate.
Damn it Chuck, fight harder. Rogue needs you.
Rogue walked outside, the voices of Mayor Bloomstein’s dinner guests inside the Gracie Mansion drifting away as she made her way across the lawn of the municipally owned estate. There was only so much she could take of the fawning dignitaries that competed for her attention, abandoned as she was by her escort who was enthusiastically enjoying the best selection of the famous home’s wine cellar. Tony Stark had barely acknowledged her whispered intention to go outside for some fresh air, waving his hand like she was some fly buzzing by his ear so he could remain focused on the voluptuous blonde who was hanging on to his every word.
Annoyed, Rogue wanted to demand he take her home immediately, seeing as she was the one doing him a favor by attending the night’s festivities, but she didn’t have the heart to do it. As irritating as the man was, she recognized he worked hard to keep the peace in New York City and the rest of the country and if he needed to release some tension by drinking too much of the devil’s elixir with some sexual gratification on the side, then more power to him. Rogue could certainly understand the compulsion.
Reaching the end of the property, Rogue looked up into the cloudless sky. She was pleasantly surprised to catch a few stars hanging against the navy blue expanse, defying the bright New York City lights of Marble Hill that bled upwards from across the Harlem River. A very slight, barely there breeze caressed her skin and her eyelids fluttered closed to enjoy it, an all too quick relief from the humid night.
She missed Logan and wished he was with her. He wouldn’t be returning until the week-end from his assignment and knowing that he was so far away made her heart ache. Today had been a particularly difficult day since she left Westchester, boring dinner party notwithstanding.
The news conference held that afternoon by S.H.I.E.L.D. to announce her membership to the Avengers had caused a big sensation; the revelation that the famous Anina was a mutant world breaking news. Standing between Captain America and Iron Man in her new Avenger uniform, Rogue felt overwhelmed as hundreds of camera bulbs flashed in front of them, throngs of journalists jockeying for a dominant position to demand a personal statement from her. She declined, deferring to the superheroes beside her, discombobulated. Anina probably could have handled all of the attention, maybe even Anna, but Rogue found herself wanting to run and hide in a corner. Maybe she should have stayed with the less conspicuous X-Men. Maybe she made a terrible, terrible mistake.
“Beautiful.”
Rogue spun around. She was shocked to find she wasn’t alone, watching a tall man step out from behind a tree to make his way slowly towards her. The expensive cut of the black evening jacket he was wearing strained against the broad expanse of his shoulders, the crisp whiteness of his shirt startling against the exposed brown skin at his throat. With growing alarm, Rogue took note of the slick dark hair held in a tidy ponytail at the nape of his neck, the sides of his scalp scraped clean. She gripped the iron railing in front of her, holding back her anxiety. He had given off no scent, whatsoever.
“Hello, Rogue.”
She swallowed hard, and he stopped in front of her. He gazed downwards, taking in every inch of her body, dwelling on her breasts, the curve of her hips before returning to her face and fastening his dark brown eyes on hers. His hands remained inside the front pockets of his tailored trousers but she could see every muscle of his body coiled tight in spite of the deceptively relaxed pose.
“Do I know you?”
He grinned, amused. “I like games, so I’ll play. Yes, you know me. Or know of me. That’s the question isn’t it? Do you remember me, or does my reputation precede me?”
Rogue kept her arms loose beside her although every instinct she had screamed at her to get away. “I’m hoping for the latter, but something tells me the former applies.” Good. She sounded calm.
“That’s too bad. I had hoped you would have somehow remembered.” His gaze dropped to her lips as his strangely accented voice dipped to a lower register. “Let’s remedy that, ore no utsukushii hana. Immediately.”
All of a sudden Rogue felt disoriented, lightheaded, her entire body flushing and then suffusing with heat as an incredible scent wrapped itself around her. He stepped closer and slid the back of a finger along her cheek, his eyes black fire.
“I can smell the Wolverine on you. His mark. You stink of it.” His finger slid along her throat and she shivered, goose bumps exploding across her skin as he made a downward path along her bare shoulder and arm. He paused at the inside of her elbow and lazily drew circles against the delicate skin there before leaning in to whisper in her ear, “Onaka ga sukimashita. I’m going to taste you, Rogue. I’m going to dip my tongue deep inside and drink you in.”
Rogue closed her eyes, his scent continuing to fill her nostrils, setting her aflame. She bit her lip, trying to fight her body’s reaction to it but a traitorous moan managed to escape her throat and instantly she was pulled up against the tree he had been hiding behind. She was barely aware of the rough bark scraping the skin on her back. He slipped a powerfully muscled thigh between hers and dug his fingers into the sides of her hips through the silk of her blue evening gown.
“I’m going to make you mine, Rogue.” His hands worked on pulling her dress upwards, his arousal pressing hard against her stomach. His lips brushed along her earlobe, sending a fresh wave of incinerating desire through her. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, and for so long that you’re going to scream my name. Over and over and over.”
His name. His name.
The name meant something, something important. Her head rolled as his mouth fastened onto her throat, his bite causing her to gasp in pain, but much, much more from acute pleasure. She lifted a leg to give him better access, tilting her pelvis forward to indicate her receptive state to him, feeling herself grow moist.
His growl deepened, sliding his lips along her collarbone before dipping in between her breasts. He grabbed hold of her leg and held it in place around his waist, working his hands under her thong to grip her bottom and thrust against her.
Rogue whimpered and bunched his shirt in her hands, staring at his full lips. “Feel that, Rogue? Feel how big I am? That’s your fault. And it’s all for you.”
She tried to fight through the hedonistic haze he was submersing her in, tried to resist the alpha male who was placing a claim on her, but not knowing why. He tried to kiss her and she turned away, something telling her that she was already claimed, already marked. He snarled and bit her throat again in punishment, drawing blood.
“Stop fighting, ore no taisetsu. You need me. You need my big, thick cock inside you. You need me deep inside your sweet, sweet pussy.”
Oh god. The heat, the want, the need he created in her.
She could feel him, hard and insistent at her entrance, and she purred; the feral in her threatening to take over. She ripped open his shirt and pulled it along with his jacket over his powerfully muscled shoulders, and something caught her eye. Barely able to string a thought together, she traced the black tribal tattoo that curled over the powerful muscle, her fingers trailing along the smooth, hairless chest the design snaked across. There was something wrong. There should be no marking. There should be soft, curling hair.
Rogue blinked, and looked into the panting face of the man who was staring at her. Where were the hazel eyes? She placed her hands along the cleanly shaved faces, and frowned. There should be hair there too. She looked up. There should be lots of hair, pointing, crazy, thick brown hair where she would dig her fingers into.
“Logan,” she whispered. Was that his name?
He snarled, releasing one hand to fist into her hair viciously. Visibly shaking with fury, he hissed, “My name is Daken. That’s the name you’re going to scream.”
Daken.
As soon as she thought his name, Rogue managed to break through the pheromone induced fog. She released the enraged Wolverine from his box and he came lunging forward, beast like and berserked, slicing through and clearing her mind to protect his mate.
Mine! He roared, chasing away the pheromonic hold on Rogue. MINE!
Rogue growled, allowing the fierce possessiveness of her angry feral lover to explode through her. Every piece of her vibrated with revulsion and disgust and she pushed Daken away, nauseous from it.
“Everything all right out there, Ms. D’Ancanto?”
They both stilled at the voice of the S.H.I.E.L.D. guard who had stepped onto the verandah, hand hovering above the pistol holstered to his side. “Ms. D’Ancanto?”
Daken’s eyes narrowed. “Modori masu,” she heard him say before he backed away and disappeared back into the shadows.
Taking a moment, Rogue straightened out her dress and worked her fingers through her hair, hoping she didn’t look too mussed. She walked out from behind the tree and made her way towards the bodyguard assigned her, smiling brightly.
“Everything’s just fine, Eddie. I was just a little faint and needed some fresh air. Nothing a little bit of water won’t fix.”
The guard looked down at her, noticing the splash of blood at her neck. Rogue placed her hand on it and winced, declaring, “Damn mosquito. Is it bad?”
He pulled out a handkerchief from his back pocket, bemused. “It’s pretty nasty.” Eddie was feeling a bit out of his element but he knew there was no way a mosquito could do that kind of damage. He watched as she stopped by a mirror just inside the foyer of the mayor''s home to wipe away the blood and unbelievably, there was nothing there, her skin completely unmarred.
“Guess I’ll be scratching a storm later.” The guard gaped at her, trying to fathom how there could be no mark on her despite the blood. She looked at him expectantly. “Um, Eddie. Water?”
At the reminder, the large man quickly apologized and hurried off to get her some and Rogue returned to her reflection in the mirror.
What the hell was she going to do now?