Chapter 2: There's Two of Us Waiting

Day Two

Professor Xavier found himself in a bit of a conundrum, and not one of pleasing merit as he often found himself engaging in on Sunday afternoons. Rather, this one was most perplexing and personal to him.

Having sent two of the best mutant trackers the world over to follow Mystique (who remained capable of complete subterfuge), Mesmero (who could hide many things, but not his scent), and Rogue (normally capable of neither), Xavier fully expected that his X-Men, with the forced accompaniment of Magneto's Acolytes, would find his student and prevent the release of Apocalypse. He had not expected, however, for her to disappear without a trace.

It was feasible that Rogue, with her obvious control over imprinted abilities while under Mesmero's power, could use teleportation skills to elude her kidnappers, however, why had she not returned to the Institute? Indeed, why was she not registering on Cerebro at all?

The facts of this puzzle had only complicated further when just 17 hours ago, Wolverine, Sabretooth, and Gambit, another of Magneto's new Acolytes, had come across a buzzing crime scene. Watching from the shadows, the trio of mutants had observed both Mystique and Mesmero being carted away by ambulances...and another unknown body in a body bag being taken by the coroner.

Suffice it to say, instantly rumors to the effect that Rogue was dead spread through the Institute. However, Xavier was pleased to announce to his students within hours that the body was not Rogue, the description released by the media immediately discluded that (and his own contacts also avowed it). However, the body did appear to be the most extreme oddity of the case.

The remains appeared to have no reason to be 'remains'. Other than the fact of death, there seemed to be no reason for the unknown woman to have died. This fact alone caused Xavier much thought, and none of it was good. In fact, his suspicions were growing direr and direr.

In certain aspects of her life, Rogue was and always had been a fragile, if stubborn, girl.

As he'd thought just moments ago, the situation was most perplexing, and indeed, disturbing.

Using the controls to the right of his hand, Xavier turned his wheelchair to leave Cerebro, having exhausted himself for the second day in a row trying to find his wayward X-Man. He knew, without even scanning outside of the now burgeoning doors, that both Shadowcat and Nightcrawler were there. They, more than any of the others, had been closest to Rogue and felt bereaved of her presence more than any of the others.

"Did you sense anything?" Kitty asked as the light from the corridor fell upon the rapidly approaching Professor. He looked older than she'd last seen him, the toll of his search the world over showing. Still, the thought of finding her former roommate and current best friend had her salivating and impatient.

"I'm sorry, Kitty. The search will go on."

Her crestfallen face was more than enough to make him wish he'd stayed at it longer. Just a bit longer. "That's okay, Professor. I know you're trying," Kitty said, placing her hand on his shoulder. No 'like's or 'totally's in the entire sentence, proving just how serious the young girl was.

"Ja, Professor. We're all trying, but if Rogue doesn't want to be found..." Kurt left the rest of it unsaid. The sentence had two endings, in truth. Either Rogue didn't want to be found, or she was incapable of it. Sooner or later, Kurt would be reunited with his sister, but for his and Kitty's sake, he hoped it was sooner.

Day Twelve

The kitchen was dark, the only luminescence coming from a small overhead light above the stove. Even in the dimness, she stood out like a beacon. It might have been those icy blue eyes, it might've been her arctic white hair; whatever it was, she instantly drew his gaze. He always knew when she was in a room; sometimes he thought that even without his enhanced senses he would know.

Ororo had a way of making a room light up, even upon the worst of circumstances. Tonight was no exception.

Logan had just returned from one of his night patrols, more than ever obsessed with making sure the mansion was safe. Not that he trusted himself to do the job, anymore. He was Weapon X; a survivor of immense capability; yet he'd lost one of his own to the enemy.

Rogue had always had a soft spot in his heart, her and most of the females in the Institute. The boys, they could take care of themselves, but despite all the various abilities, Logan was a gentleman at heart. He believed and saw women as fragile creatures, ones that respected a man who wanted to protect and provide for him.

However, that might just be the primitive in him talking.

"Hey, 'Ro."

It was obvious she'd been too distracted to notice his entrance, jerking softly at his voice. She sniffled softly (the sound helping to explain the light rain that had been carrying on for the past hour), not turning as she returned the greeting. "Good evening, Logan. How was the perimeter?"

"As secure as I can make it," which wasn't saying much.

Storm smiled, he could tell by the way the rain lessened; he could also tell because he'd spent two years studying that smile. The attraction he felt wasn't illogical, or even unexpected. Ororo was the only adult female he encountered regularly, and indeed was quite an attractive one. Still, relationships on a team such as theirs didn't have a long survival rate, mostly due to the passion this work involved. One was never quite sure of the bonds that can be formed under duress, and often found them fickle. Logan may not have much of his past in memories, but some of the scars on his body (the few that lasted through his healing process, and indeed, were ever fading) told him stories of the things he'd done and had done to him. Several bore striking resemblance to nail scrapes. Very, very deep ones for them to leave such a memento for long.

Logan shook his head slightly, trying to draw his mind out of what was always a risky territory, his past. He opened the refrigerator automatically reaching for the beer that no longer was there. Just a few months ago, Xavier had banned Logan from keeping it in the main house (Bobby and Roberto had been feeling lucky and decided to sneak some, not realizing in their newness to the mansion that there was no such thing as "sneak" with a telepath). "You want something to drink, 'Ro?"

"Some water, if you would," her voice was soft, still shaky from her silent tears. It wasn't that she was crying for Rogue, though Goddess knows the soft-hearted African woman had. It was more that she was crying for the situation the X-Men now found themselves in. Rogue was the second X-Men to disappear from their lives in as many months. First Evan and now her, and Storm wasn't sure how much more she could take.

Logan wordlessly opened a bottle of spring water and handed it to her over the counter. In order for her to take it, she'd have to face him and he waited patiently. He wasn't disappointed.

Her eyes were red but enormous in her pale golden face, the blue of it so much deeper for the pale rose that rimmed it. She had her hair pulled back from her face, into a ponytail, several strands escaping to drift into her cheeks. She was, as usual, devastating in her regal gorgeousness. It had never been a mystery to him that some had considered her a Goddess. Hell, sometimes people still did.

"Has there been any change?" Logan asked of the unchanging tableau below. For almost two weeks now, first Xavier and now Jean as well had spent hour upon hour searching the globe for a trace of Rogue. In the land, in the air, in the minds of people everywhere. It was a large search, extremely debilitating for the two psychics. Perhaps they would not have been so determined had it not been for the peculiar circumstances. They knew she'd teleported somewhere, but the real question was where?

"Jean has retired to her quarters; Xavier has yet to awaken from his nap. I thought it prudent to allow this brief rest. They're pushing themselves too hard." Ororo clenched her hand around the glass bottle she held, cracking the glass around the rim slightly. Logan cautiously removed it from her hand.

"They're not the only ones."

She smiled a small one but real. "No, they are not."

"How many Danger Room sessions are they having daily now?"

"Scott has mandated at least three."

"They ain't dead, yet?"

"I'm surprised they have not complained yet."

Logan nodded, slightly amused by the tenacity with which the older X-Men and the younger recruits now took to their learnings. "What about Magneto's crew?"

Ororo closed her eyes, begging the Goddess for patience. "They are still here. Despite Magneto's vow to remove himself from the Mansion and the search, he remains."

"I think Chuck might have gotten to him."

"Perhaps," Ororo replied, taking a seat at the table, sighing as she sat. While most of the past couple of weeks had been unsettling and often tense, the Acolytes had proven to be a mood-lightener. Between Gambit's flirting, Pyro's fire-antics, and Colossus's quiet serenity, many of the X-Men found themselves begrudgingly starting to like them.

Certainly, with the exclusion of Magneto and Sabretooth, the Acolytes were taking to the life of the Institute. Cyclops had even allowed himself to be convinced to let them join in one Danger Room session a day. Storm had overseen the first session herself, and had seen that if not for Magneto's constant criticisms, the trio of mutants fit into the scheme of X-Men just fine.

Xavier, though distracted, had seen as well. Between hours of Cerebro, he'd taken to speaking with Magneto at length, trying again as he had before to convince the Magnetic Master to join him in his crusade. As yet, Magneto had made no promises...however, he'd not said nay either.

Ororo viewed the situation as she would a game of poker, and all the players were holding their cards close to chest.

"'Ro? Ororo?"

She imagined he'd been calling her name for several minutes, given the look of concern on his face. "Yes, Logan?"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. A bit tired. I think I shall return to bed now."

Logan nodded and watched her go, before turning to the same bank of windows she'd stared out of. He would not sleep tonight, instead again standing sentinel over the mutants he'd come to care for. This was home.