A hurricane.

She felt so full and yet so empty. Puffed from the inside out, going round and round in what felt like a black hole that went into what she could only describe was a pit of despair. The voices, the faces, and all the horrid memories collided in one swirling current. She feels like throwing up, giving up. She felt like dying. She probably was. This was it. She was going to die. Or worse, she was losing her mind.

I'll find you, Marie.

All kinds of emotions burst from her when she heard his voice: wrath, anxiety, love, unease, hope, regret, deceit, sorry, sorry… She knows that his promises were true, and yet, they weren't. Wasn't really him. It was just her.

Just…

Why was she –what was happening?

The vibrations surrounding her ears wouldn't go away. It was like having the wind blow endlessly on her ear. Whirring. Why had she been so stupid? Why did she think that she could…

Separate yourself from the tempest.

The voice was different from all those that she knew by heart. Panic coursed through her, but the more she felt, the more she lost control. It was like falling over a cliff over and over again –a cliff of indescribable torment. Then it came again, that detached entity that was trying to communicate with her. A part of her wanted to kick it out, terminate it from her thoughts, but it was almost comforting, to have this non-invasive voice in her head that actually wanted to help her out. Besides, she had no power to fight it anyway. How could she, when there were all these hands dragging her down, eager to tear her to shreds, consume every part of her till she was gone? They wanted to own her. Blue. Gray. Black. Blue. Red. Gray. Green. Fire. Metal. Adamantium. Hazel.

Separate yourself from the tempest, Rogue.

How?

There is quiet in the eye of the tornado. Go to it. You have the power to do it.

She cried helplessly because she couldn't even move. She was stuck in the cyclone.

Will it ever end?

She didn't think she could…

Listen to her, darlin'. At least this time, Marie. She's tryin' to help you.

I wanted it to be you, Logan. I wanted it to be you who could help me. I wanted it to be only you. She waited for him to answer, to quell her fears, but there was no reply. Maybe it's better if I…

A strong shove broke her from the chains of her mind, but she limped, fell on her knees. She was dangling. Everything ached. Why were they doing this to her? Was it so wrong, what she did? But she tried to stop, tried to let go. She was so miserable, so sorry.

The eye of the tornado, Rogue. Look for it. Go to it. Separate yourself from the tempest.

Was this what mutilation felt like? It felt like she had phantom limbs everywhere, that every time she reached forward and took another step, those extremities were cut, pulled, torn from her. She felt like weeping tears of blood; the pain was indescribable, pure torture. But every time she felt like stopping, giving up, the shove happened again, more persistent than the last.

Leave me alone!

I can't.

If she could see him, she would glare at him. But all she could see was his life force in her head. Why did it have to be you, Logan?

Tears. Strings cut. Exhaustion.

Look up. Look around you.

She blinked and took her a while to notice that she was alone. Alone. When she lifted her gaze, the chaos that was everything and everyone was there, in front of her. How many days had she suffered because of them? The nightmares, the voices, the paranoia, the weakness, and the fear… The longer she gazed, the more their obscured faces pressed towards her that she nearly screamed, horrified. But the cyclone itself served a barrier too strong for those forces to break free. They were trapped in an endless dance in her mind.

Was it wrong to say that she hated them as much as she loved them?

Alone.

Logan?

Wake up, Rogue.

Why did you leave me, Logan? Why did you let me go?

Quiet.

Awaken, Rogue.

Maybe it was better this way. This was reality, wasn't it?

Awaken, Rogue!

So she did.

Rogue bolted up the bed as if doused with a bucket of cold water. Her chest heaved, her breathing clearly strangled. She felt like she had just woken up from a long sleep, like going through an out-of-body experience. Erik and Wolverine's prominent voices were no longer there, drowned out by a whir of white noise in the back of her head. It bothered her for a while, that strange buzz that wouldn't go away, and she was tempted to smash her head against the wall but she noticed a forest-green electric guitar shimmering from across the room.

Like a child she was drawn to it, like it was the only beautiful thing that existed in her world. Sights set on the smooth guitar, she extended her arms towards it. Unknown to her she glides to the instrument without touching the floor. She tugged her gloves off and started to strum. The music filled her head, and just like that, it completely dulled the hum of turmoil in her brain. "Hmm…" There was no song, no direction, but the notes drifted up the air in sweet harmony.

Peace.

The music was disrupted when the door opened, startling Rogue, that she flew to the other side of the room, the guitar suddenly forgotten. She was trembling as she tried to recognize the intruder in the room. Dark hair, like a raven's.

Raven.

Memories wrecked her –what about the kill last night? Sabretooth! Did she just kill a woman before that, too? She rambled to herself, trying to remind her who and where she was, clutching and pulling on her hair.

Carol.

In a flash, Rogue had Raven by the neck, strong enough to cut her breath, weak enough to keep her alive. "YOU! What did you do to me?! YOU LIED TO ME!" Even though she was livid, the anger felt misplaced, but she was doing it for something –justice or goodwill, because the peculiar peace in her head was actually a pleasant thing. No ominous voices, no disturbing thoughts, except for that minimal thrum…

"We had to do it, Rogue," a familiar throaty voice said from the door, answering what Mystique was probably trying to gurgle from her choking hold. The woman dressed in all white reminded her of Carol, but with bigger breasts and blue eyes that were thrilling and dangerous. "Emma Frost. Most powerful telepath in the universe." She stretched a hand towards Rogue, not to shake her hand, but to hold the arm trying to kill the helpless brunette.

"But Carol…" Rogue whimpered, and relinquished her hold on Mystique. She slid down the floor and covered her face with her hands. "I… I killed her."

"The woman is in a coma. She's still alive, sorta," Mystique coughed out, massaging her throat. She glowered at Rogue, but she knew better. "She was an alien –about to become a major problem if she continued to live. You actually did the world a favor."

Emma echoed the sentiment with a patronizing smile on her face, "You're our hero."

They were just buttering her up. Carol's memories had no malicious intent whatsoever. But what can she do now that the deed was done, cry like a baby? But her heart ached with pain and guilt. "I don't want to be a hero," she bit out harshly, and pounded her fists hard against the floor. The three of them stared at the two fist-sized craters on the carpeted floor. Rogue chuckled sadly, eyeing her fists. "Sabretooth wasn't even there last night, was he? You purposely wanted me to drain Carol. You wanted me to kill her."

Emma crouched down to look at the newly-powered mutant. "Tonight was a test, Rogue. Sabretooth is not like your Logan. He is rabid and more feral than man. We had to find out if you could manage to overcome you're psyche's… pandemonium." The blonde was brave enough to tuck the white streaks behind Rogue's ear. To Emma's credit, the grief-stricken Rogue did not consider her antagonistic, recognizing her voice as the one who tried to get her through the scuffle in her head. "If you failed last night, we wouldn't be talking to you right now."

"What if you failed?" Rogue yelled, the tears falling on her cheeks.

"But you didn't," Emma prompted calmly, bravely combing her hair with her fingers. "Raven was right. You are a powerful mutant –more powerful than anyone has given you credit for."

Raven. Rogue gasped and glanced at Mystique, who looked like she was still trying to breathe properly. "Did I hurt you? I touched…" But there were no new memories, no tingle of the shape-shifting mutation...

"No, no," Mystique assured them. "I'm hurt because you smothered me, you bitch." There was no resentment in her voice though, if anything, a little amused.

"But how!?"

"Too much stress can make any person snap," Emma said with a shrug. "In your case, it was a good kind of snap." She proceeded to clap her hands in delight –genuinely, Rogue noted, as if they have been friends all these years. "I didn't even have to probe your mind. All I had to do was persuade you to come back to us." Rogue could only watch as the telepath cupped her cheeks and grinned proudly at her. "We didn't expect this but you have achieved control over your mutation. Congratulations!"

Rogue sulked, deep in thought. She turned her eyes to look at Raven. "Do you still want me to kill Sabretooth?"

Raven took a full minute before she replied. "Yes."

"Why are you helping her?" Rogue asked Emma now.

"What can I say?" Emma smirked, but the sadness was evident in her pretty face. "I love him too."

Only an hour later, Rogue assisted Mystique in packing their things. She did not ask how long she was unconscious or delirious, afraid of their answer. Emma asked her many times if she was up to it because if she needed rest, she would tell Mystique that they can postpone the main event. But she declined, replied that they should be taking advantage of her willingness. Might as well finish what she started. Where her resolve came from, she didn't want to know, but right now, she was a woman for hire, not a little indecisive runaway.

The three women exited the dingy motel and walked to the parking lot where Mystique's black Chevy Impala was parked. Remarkably enough, Rogue felt that she was not nervous, but eager. Her skin. Her new powers. It made her feel so… omnipotent. And it made her want to challenge Sabretooth. Sweet control; it made her feel so self-assured, and though she wasn't sure till when it would last, she didn't care. It came with a price, of course, but her regrets were waning by the second.

On and off. On and off.

The switch was in her head, under her palms, everywhere. Was it there all along? Why didn't she figure this out before? Why didn't the Professor? For a moment she waited for Erik and Wolverine to comment on that, but neither spoke. She couldn't wait to touch other people –at least not Emma or Raven, but more than anything, her hands itched for the guitar.

"I'm taking my leave now, ladies," Emma announced behind them, bringing Rogue out of her musings. "I'll need to get far away from here." Even in the dim streetlight above them, her eyes shone bright with unshed tears. "I'll need to get so drunk, or get high."

Just as Rogue was about to thank her, her jaw dropped when Emma stepped in front of Raven, trapped her face with her palms, and gave her an open-mouth kiss. It did not turn out to be a lesbo kissing fest because Mystique remained unresponsive, and only gave her own lips a lick when Emma drew back.

"You always won," the White Queen said in a hushed tone, a flicker of weakness clouding her countenance. When she flipped her blonde hair over her bare shoulder, Rogue saw her don what was probably her usual cold, crystal façade. It was wordlessly saying that playing nice was over, but Emma flashed Rogue a pleased, intrigued smile. "Call me whenever you need my help, Rogue."

"Thanks, I guess…" Rogue trailed off, watching the scantily-clad Emma hop on her convertible beside the Impala. The tires screeched noisily against the dirt road and off she went, far away into the night. Her eyes were still on the smoke of dust in the distance when she asked her partner, "Do you really want me to do this?"

Raven did not answer her, but she had a feeling that the answer would never be anything but yes.

When Logan found out that Rogue was indeed in Canada, he abruptly left Charles alone in Cerebro and dashed to the Blackbird hangar. He could feel the telepath trying to communicate with him, telling him that he did not need to –well, he pushed the man out of his brain and just as he set sight to the plane, he almost fell over his knees, but thankfully, his quick reflexes forced him to stop. He growled as he saw and felt the hardening blocks of ice on his feet, cementing him to the floor.

"I'd rather have her in Mars than have her here, looking at you with puppy dog eyes." Bobby Drake's voice had become deeper the past few years, but Logan knew dipshit when he smelled one. Stupid kid.

"Givin' you ten seconds, Iceprick. Leave or I carve snowflakes–"

"You're only going to hurt her," Bobby gritted. "We both know you would never really–" He yelped in surprise when the claws came out and tore through the ice, but just before Logan could make a cold corpse out him, a strong gust of wind sends the feral to the other side of the room, leaving a rather obvious dent on the wall. He breathed a sigh of relief, but Logan could hear the loud beating of his heart.

"Bobby," Ororo called his name, her face serious, eyes white. "Please leave."

"Ro, I don't think he's…"

"Bobby, don't make me ask you again."

The Iceman looked furious still, but he nodded and took a step back. He turned to Logan before leaving. "Don't break her heart, Logan."

"Fuck off, cheating bastard," Logan growled, making the younger man wince and exit the room quickly. He dusted himself off and glared at the white-haired mutant. "You can't stop me, Ororo."

"Who says I am?" Ororo asked, her eyebrow raised. "Be sensible. We are also going to pick up Scott. And, you don't know how to fly her," pointing her thumb at the plane.

Logan's ears turned visibly red.

"Consider this your training my ass!" Rogue snarled in sheer anger as she dodged one of Sabretooth's blows. She was bruised here and there, but she knew that if she didn't have Carol's powers, she would have gladly avoided this deathtrap. He would have certainly killed her the moment she entered his territory.

Mystique had dropped her off by force in this random, remote patch of trees somewhere and told her to hunt for Sabretooth herself. He was extra feral by night, and said that indeed, this was considered her 'first training' as the new, much-improved Rogue.

They managed to make a clearing in the woods, the trees overturned by the roots, bark, stones and bushes everywhere. It was an epic kind of mess and she was pound and beat up, but her blood was singing. They were trying to punch the life out of each other, but they both knew that the smaller adversary was winning. Though Sabretooth was truly outraged, completely savage -her invulnerability, flight, and super strength were truly a guaranteed cheat. Even if he was a fast healer, the measly seconds necessary for the restorative abilities to kick in was costing him.

When Rogue realized that their fight was becoming too mundane and predictable for her liking, she decided to resort to the original plan. Also, she wanted to stop eating weed and soil, thanks to his merciless head slamming. "I'll try to make this quick for you," she said, ripping her top apart. The strap of her bra hung loose on her shoulder, she knew it was time to switch her skin on. "Come to mommy, Garfield."

Howling loudly, the feral dove towards her.

This was it, she thought, feeling everything go into slow motion. Fangs and claws bared, ready to bite and kill, he looked so much like an animal, she could only wonder what kind of man he had been. This man was Raven's lover once. Hell, he had even managed to forget who she was. Because why would he fight her for no reason, right? Not wasting any time, she welcomed his attack with open arms, that he fazed a bit, as if hesitating. He slams right on top of her, their sweat-drenched skins glued easily together. He snarled, clawed at her, but he couldn't seem to push her off of him.

Victor Creed's memories slipped through her like hot, thick silver. It was burning as it was delicious. His strength was admirable –it filled her veins with a different kind of resonance, almost similar to Logan's, only more powerful and raw. She mimicked his growl to the point that it made her throat itch.

Livid, wanting.

And it seemed that the intensity of the transfer was twisting into something oddly erotic. The vision of her tearing her clothes off stirred carnal desires within her. It was imminent that they had began dry humping each other on the grass. The only intercourse happening, however, was the drawing of his life force into hers.

And she loved it, the way she felt her whole body writhe with desire and she knew it was there –his healing mutation, intertwining with her own, tickling, fluttering, stitching her body into perfection. His hidden passions were as potent as his thrusts. Purely animalistic. The pleasure exploded around them even though they were just rubbing against each other, though the other was dying. He whimpered then, like a dog kicked in the ribs. She felt him nuzzle the crook of her neck, took a long whiff of her scent, and collapsed on top of her like an empty shell.

What a way to go.

When Rogue returned at least a few hours later, which felt like a stretch of eternity to Raven, she was half-naked, torn, her hair in thick, crazy waves about her face and arms. She was bloodied and breathing hard. She kicked the door of their motel room lightly, but sent it flying inside the room.

Mystique wept openly, and sobbed out loud when she noticed how different the younger mutant looked. Her instincts told her to flee, but she remained by the bed as Rogue tackled her down the floor and squeezed her neck once again.

"You filthy whore!" she roared in a voice too deep to be hers, and delivered a crunchy backhanded slap on the woman's face. The woman bruised easily, her nose sputtered with blood, her lips split open. "You filthy, filthy bitch!" She slammed Raven's head back to the hard cement. She was about to repeat the action when the abused woman moaned in pain.

"Victor…"

Rogue wailed like an animal and raised her prolonged claws up in the air and slashed her hands down at Raven who was watching her with pain-filled eyes. The claws, however, don't make it on her face, instead, left a scratch mark right beside the woman's ear.

In her mind, Rogue watched as Victor Creed took control, leaned down in front of Mystique's face to look at her in the yes one last time and muttered, "Thank… you…"

Darkness.