Disclaimer: I own nothing of this series.

Summary: She'd never imagined herself in this position. Rahne/Sam. Mature content.

Author's Note: The title for this chapter is a line from the song "O'Lord" by Smile Empty Soul.


Warning: This story lurks around much sexual, mature material; it is extremely obvious throughout the entire story. If this makes you squeamish, disgusted, or self-righteously angry, do not read this story. Please be advised that you continue reading at your own discretion.


Bruised and Broken

(She never knew what she had until now.)

It was all she could do to rest when commanded. The daylight hours found her pacing, reading, mumbling her frustration under her breath. Her only concern was to bring him back in one piece, alive—unharmed was a moot point, with his injuries when taken. Her hopes were focused on making sure that his life wouldn't end while he was in captivity.

Besides the not-knowing, what made it worse was that her pack thought she was concerned for a just-friend. She couldn't even find the energy and time to explain that, no, her mate was missing, not even to those who hadn't missed the slip of tongue. And if they didn't find him soon…a part of her was going to break.


(The aftermath was turbulent.)

She didn't register her shift back until she felt a pair of hands on her shoulders. Then she realized that her paws were hands, her howl a drawn-out whimper. Her eyes were filled with tears, but she could still see Ray's bloody nose as he pulled her to her feet.

"Up," he said in her ear. "We've got to regroup, preferably away from the street."

Wiping the tears from her eyes, Rahne struggled to breathe. She had to concentrate on something else, or the pain would consume her. She chose the pack as a focal point.

Amara and Tabitha supported each other, the ones closest to the shapeless blur of normal human peers that had become their audience. Rahne refused to look at a single one of the 'normals'. Bobby helped Jubilee walk, a large bruise on her forehead and slightly dazed eyes signaling a possible concussion. She glanced behind her to see that Roberto was treating Kitty with the same care that Ray had shown her, gently pulling her toward the rest of the pack. Todd was at Kitty's side, too, looking more than a little lost.

"I don't know what in the world you were thinking—"

Rahne's stomach dropped. Her gaze went from her friends to Principal Kelly, standing between them and the school: hands on his hips, face stiff, jaw clenched. The man's voice was too loud, carrying over the spectators—everyone who watched but didn't help. Her fellow mutants were frozen, shocked, but Rahne could have cared less what Kelly thought.

Her vision cleared enough to see the school—to see a man in a suit, his face with ever-cold eyes soaking in the chaos, frozen in place.

That was all she could see as he spoke. "—but this kind of violence is wildly, ridiculously unacceptable on any terms! How dare you—"

"Murderer!"

Rahne flinched, startled at the feminine shriek that came from just behind her. And then the speaker—Kitty—stomped past her, no longer relying on Roberto's physical support. Her face was pale save for bright red spots on her cheeks, and every breath made her wince. But she shook with rage and came to a stop in front of Kelly, shielding her fellow mutants from their principal with her physical placement. Fire glowed in her eyes. She showed no hesitation, not even when whispers filled the air above their peers, still safely behind the spread arms of the teachers and staff.

Principal Kelly was taken aback only for an instant. Angry red highlighted his face. "How dare you speak to me that way!" he shouted, focus entirely on her. "I wasn't the one whose friends came and attacked this school!"

Kitty's hands balled up into fists and a sharp, deeply sarcastic laugh tore from her throat. "You can't be serious!"

"You will cease speaking to me that—"

"None of you are that stupid!" She cut him off, hair whipping back and forth as her wild eyes moved to the staff members, who had formed a line in front of the other students during the fight. Their expressions were torn between all kinds of conflicting emotions, and Kitty's words were loosely distributed to them all. "They were Friends of Humanity, you bastard! Those vans had their symbol, you've seen it! You know what they do to anyone they take!"

As she gulped in another breath, the ringing silence was filled with the rumors and news reports from when the first mutilated mutant body was found.

Kitty didn't stop there, shrieking her head off at the principal. "And still you didn't call the police, or the Professor! You just stood there while they took our friends! If they die it's on your head! Murderer!"

Kelly shook his head, half in denial and half in disbelief. "Now see here! I will not be spoken to that way! These normal students were placed in danger by your—"

Kitty sneered at him as she cut his words off again. "What danger were they in? We're the ones who were attacked! The people who did that were not mutants!"

"That's not what I saw!" His defense was weak, and the words fell flat in the air even before Kitty let loose a hysterical, wild laugh.

"What you saw was a group of students attacked by grown adults, two of them kidnapped, and the staff members and principal of this school doing absolutely nothing to help!"

There was a longer pause between words, and Rahne noted—in an out-of-body kind of way—that many adults shifted uncomfortably.

The rest of her was focused almost entirely on the swelling anger that had moved to take the place of her pain and shock. It was so much easier to feel hatred for this ignorant man than it was to feel the pain of Sam's loss. The knowledge wasn't quite processed, mostly in the back of her mind.

And the principal didn't want to stop fighting them, too caught up in his own prejudice. "Regardless of who attacked, it's absolutely clear that your presence brings danger to every normal student—"

"How dare ye? Ye liar, ye are blind!"

She shocked herself when she snapped, but the anger was enough to carry her. It took her closer to Kelly, whose jaw moved wordlessly, indignant and stunned.

"Open yer eyes an' look at reality!" she screamed, at him—but also at the blur that was her peers, the shapes that were her teachers. "Ye are not the ones in danger here! We are the ones who canna walk down the street safely!" She pointed at the road behind her. "We are the ones who canna be in school without ye—" her hand swung around to point at him "—encouragin' hatred! We are the ones who canna be safe in our own homes! Ye have no right, no right tah be afraid, because we are the ones livin' in danger! Not ye!"

The silence after her words felt more loaded than a gun.

She was acutely aware of what she had just said, of the fact that not one of the mutants had ever admitted as much to their classmates before, let alone screamed it at the principal of their school. Her gaze remained locked on the man in front of her, whose face was unsettled and shifting between red and white. He spluttered a few lackluster protests that lacked thought, struggling to come up with an argument in the face of a sudden strength where before, there had only been bowed heads and gritted teeth.

Her voice calmed to a clipped, cold tone that contrasted greatly to the emotion to her earlier speech. "Donna dare tell me that we put others in danger, Kelly, when ye are tellin' them to hurt us." She pointed a finger at him. "If my friend and mate dinnae come back alive, ye are responsible. By encouraging hatred."

His face went completely red, but he was beat to the punch yet again.

"I wouldn't be surprised if you were the one who told the Friends of Humanity to come for us." Kitty's voice was right behind her, and her hand squeezed Rahne's shoulder.

Kelly's face drained of all color. Rahne let herself be tugged backwards, to their pack, but did not turn around. She kept her eyes on the man she blamed, the one she always disliked and feared and now felt a burning rage towards.

And with that prominent in her mind, she shook her head and said, "I always knew ye hated us—I jus' never thought ye'd be a monster."

In a small corner of her mind, she saw that these words (accusations) had an effect. He winced.

Kitty. Rahne. "Enough. Both of you."

She sensed the Professor's disappointment in them, but she also could not feel any guilt. The pain and rage were so intense, and a part of her was distinctly glad that she said it all. That she finally said so much kept bottled up inside day after day.

It wasn't just her declaration: it was theirs. She knew it instinctively, in the way none of her pack was staring at her, the way none of them had spoken to calm or quiet her verbal raging.

She only said what they had come to feel after day upon day of this treatment.

Tearing her eyes away from Kelly's face, she turned to see members of the older team already with her pack: she didn't see Remy, Hank and Logan. But Scott pushed the Professor's wheelchair across the grass. Ororo's face was lined with distress as Tabitha and Amara clung to her. Rogue, the least touchy-feely of the lot, brushed Jubilee's hair back from her face and checking her for a concussion, while Jean's hand rested comfortingly on Bobby's shoulder. Kurt helped prop Roberto up as he struggled to breathe evenly, one arm wrapped around his ribs.

Todd stood at his full vertical height, on straight legs, beside Kitty, letting her lean on him and saying something that had her nodding slowly. Ray stood at her side, a silently comforting presence. He wasn't touching her, but she already knew that it must have been a challenge for him not to visibly spark.

Her eyes went watery when she caught sight of the administrative offices. Ms. Trace was coming through the doors. A few other teachers followed after her, heading in their direction—other more or less friendly teachers, ones who never encouraged their treatment even if they didn't outright speak up.

Rahne felt tears rolling down her cheeks as the Professor rolled to a stop, close enough that he was between his students and their principal. He looked up at Kelly, hands folded in his lap.

She had never seen his expression so angry before.

His voice was colder than liquid nitrogen. "My students have dealt with more from you than anyone their age should."

Kelly opened his mouth, but the Professor steamrolled over him. "Your security did nothing to stop their attackers or help my students to safety. Your administrative staff did not even attempt to call the police—teachers acting of their own accord had the presence of mind to call both myself and the authorities. You did nothing, and from what I know," he tapped his forehead and Kelly paled, "you witnessed the entire attack." He gripped the arms of his chair. "I sincerely hope you think about your reasons, for rest assured, I will pursue every legal action available."

Rahne turned her face away from the Professor, knowing that it was the only way he would ever react—according to the limitations of non-mutants. But that didn't mean she liked it.

Over Ray's shoulder, she caught sight of a camera crew—two guys and a female reporter. They were practically salivating.

Her blood turned to ice and she felt a distinct snarl curling on her lips. Ray—seeing her expression—grabbed her arm. "No point," he said in her ear. "Don't make this worse for all of us."

She glared at him, but tugged her arm away and pointedly turned her back on them. Though murk in her memory, she recalled differently-colored vans appearing at some point; a news crew must have stumbled upon them. Or someone had called them. She felt her stomach drop at the thought that someone called for the news rather than the police.

Searching now, she caught sight of men in uniforms shuffling around. A few of them had approached her packmates, and those who were not too injured to speak answered. They did so as confidently as they could while coming down from the adrenaline high and dealing with pain.

Rahne felt herself crashing, too, but the turmoil inside of her was too much for her to allow herself to collapse.

Ms. Trace had come to a halt halfway through the Professor's speech. She took the opportunity after he finished addressing Principal Kelly to direct their focus elsewhere. "We need to get these students to the hospital," she said.

Scott shook his head. "We have medical facilities at the Institute. And a great live-in doctor," he added when her lips tightened. "Mr. McCoy is waiting for us."

Ms. Trace crossed her arms and glanced over at the parking lot in front of the school. Rahne saw that they brought the van, but already knew there wouldn't be enough room. They had rushed to the school, and while the X-Van could hold the main team for missions it was clearly impossible for the entire Institute to fit. Ms. Trace nodded decisively and said, "I have a car that can hold three comfortably."

Kelly rudely butted in before Scott could do more than raise an eyebrow in surprise. "Ms. Trace, you cannot leave halfway through the school day, much less with students!"

Ms. Trace's face transformed before Rahne's eyes. Her favorite English teacher looked up at Kelly with an anger that did not match her usually pleasant personality. "Then call a substitute," she said in a clipped tone. "Or better yet, get off your ass and do something for a change." When his jaw dropped, she let a cold smile come to her lips. "I am going to help my students."

One of the other teachers—a man that Rahne didn't have, but whom she thought might have been Mr. Quarter—intervened before yet another person could get into an impassioned monologue. "I have room for three as well."

Two more teachers offered their cars, though only one more was needed; Mr. Quarter was picked as the second driver. The Professor thanked each of them gratefully with a warm, if strained, smile.

Ms. Trace waved it off. Her eyes landed on Rahne's, and the sympathy that came to them sent more tears right down the girl's cheeks. She walked up to the older woman, sensing Ray trail along behind her. "Thank ye," she said, wiping away tears.

"Come on, dear," Ms. Trace said, grasping Rahne by the shoulders firmly. "Stiff upper lip. You'll get those boys back." There was conviction in her tone, a sense of determination that hit Rahne's core like a hammer on hot metal.

Her insides had been goopy and runny, trying to find a way out of the mess. The intangible confusion inside was not to be outdone by her body's tension. But her teacher's words struck something within her, and that panic-fear-anger that swirled inside became hard as steel—became her focus, her determination.

She would get her Sam back if it was the last thing she did.


(Strain and stress can break so much.)

Hours later in the medical wing of the Institute, Rahne lay with her eyes closed and a hand braced against her forehead. The room was full of injured students in their beds, the noise level ratcheting up a notch every couple of minutes. The adrenaline rush had disappeared, and now they were all coming down from it to find themselves short two mutants and freaked out.

Although the Friends of Humanity were an undeniably real presence in the world, it felt like a nightmare threat more than an actual, tangible danger to many of her pack. That bubble burst violently and they were left to regroup, their imaginations running wild. Whatever happened to Lance and Sam wasn't going to be good; the only question was when—and whether the pack would find them in time to stop the inevitable.

Rahne's pack members who were attacked sat on beds around her, in the medical bay. She wasn't speaking to anyone, though the others were not as quiet. Jamie curled up at her side the moment she entered the doors of the Institute. The homeschooled boy was completely distraught and she knew her presence helped, but a large part of her wished that someone was there to hold her.

She longed for either one of two friends, who would have held her without question and provided a support she so desperately desired. Since one (lover) was kidnapped and the other (friend) sparking electricity, Rahne had to be strong for Jamie.

The older team was in and out of the room, asking questions as gently as they could. They had yet to make a real decision, and when they did she would be there. She had to be involved in the rescue effort, not left behind the way they often left the younger team. She would be going on this mission whether it was as a member or a stowaway.

With her bed in the corner closest to the door, she could overhear conversations in the corridor if she let her wolf-self take her hearing. She heard Rogue say that Gambit tailed the vans away from the school, but had yet to contact the Institute. Jean reported getting in touch with Logan, who was going to go by the school and see if he could follow the scent of the vans or Gambit. He also had found a few promising leads that they could check if both trackers failed to follow the kidnappers.

"Rahne."

She opened her eyes, the faintest tilt indicating a smile to greet her no-longer-sparking friend. "Ye calmed down faster this time, Ray."

He glanced at the little boy under her arm and tilted his head a fraction. With a quick squeeze around her ribs, the kid quietly scampered off to where Bobby had pulled a pillow over his head.

Confused, Rahne propped herself up on her elbows as Ray took a seat on the edge of her bed. He didn't wait for her to ask, instead focusing his intent gaze on her face and lowering his voice. "I know this is tough on you—probably more so than for the rest of us." He raised an eyebrow at her.

She blinked. "What are ye—"

"You called Sam your mate when you were yelling at Kelly."

For some reason, her heart felt like it was beating faster when she realized that he was right. "So? Ye already knew I thought that way."

"You've never said it like that." He shrugged, hands gripping the edge of the bed firmly. "Look, I'm just saying, I might not be the only one who noticed. We all have a lot more to think about now, but somebody is going to ask eventually. Everyone will want a distraction. And they don't know what I know."

Rahne bit her lip. He had a point. Suddenly the air in the room felt too thin.

They certainly did have other concerns, but gossip would always circulate: people wanted to pass on information, distract themselves. And Ray's hinting opened up a thought she had not considered. When her pack realized that she referred to Sam as her mate, there was no telling what they would think about their personal relationship. If they would jump to sex, or if—by keeping that detail a secret—they would simply assume that the two had a secret relationship. The complicated nature of the issue was enough to make her head spin.

And Jean—Jean already knew about their first time. Rahne did not know if she told anyone, but if she did then they, and she, would be a step closer to the full extent of Sam and Rahne's relationship. She bit her lip: maybe Jean told Scott, or the Professor—despite her assertion that it wasn't her business, Rahne was no stranger to the ways of girls to whom gossip was a driving force in social hierarchy. All the possibilities…

But there was something else to all this: the fact that she had never wanted it to be a secret. She didn't want it to be a business arrangement rather than a real relationship, either, but no one would know that when the truth came out. And Sam, when—she refused to think 'if'—he came back, what would he say? What would he think?

And having him back… Could she really go back to the way they were? She was suddenly, acutely, aware of the fact that at that very moment the people she lived with, the mutants she loved, the men and women who would help her find Sam—were completely unaware of the nature of her relationship with him. They didn't know that he meant everything to her, that she considered him her mate—a term that went deeper than friend, boyfriend, husband. If only they did.

With a bolt of understanding, she wished that she could publicly claim him, and their relationship. That surviving on the shadows of night, on encounters unspoken, was no longer enough for her. It hadn't been for a very long time, even if she ignored her desire for true commitment. The precarious nature of their relationship was something never to be open for public debate—she was too wary of what her pack would think—and that left the question of what answer she could give to their questions.

She could tell the truth or lie. Omissions and obscuring the full details was still lying, still holding back a part of what was real from those she lived among. A bitter laugh welled in her throat. Life would be easier if her nature was different. But she was what she was, and that left her inner wolf trembling in pain.

Rahne would bring Sam home no matter what pain, but when he was safe again…their deal would have to be broken.


(Organization takes too much time.)

Assuring Ray that she could handle the problem if and when it arose, Rahne made an effort not to watch him wander away. His raised eyebrow indicated that something in her words tipped him off, but he had decided to leave it alone after his warning.

Left waiting in her bed, she quickly decided that she didn't like sitting around while the older team was in another room a few doors down—and probably working on the problem, the way she was barred from doing. She was definitely unhappy with the arrangement. Her inner wolf urged her to go and find out what was happening, a draw that was strong enough to make her do it.

Her breath came in with little pinpricks of pain, but she was able to walk without needing to lean on the wall for help. Her ribs had been bruised in the attack; though expected to make a full recovery, the Professor also encouraged her to rest for the remainder of the day. Willfully ignoring his directions left her feeling a little guilty: knowing she couldn't rest until she knew where Sam was made her resist the emotion.

And so she found herself waiting outside the meeting room, thankful that the door was open. It wasn't as if they were worried about spies, or specifically needed to hide anything from the rest of the students in the Institute. Through the doorway, she listened patiently, content simply to hear the information that set her muscles aching for movement.

Logan had caught up to Gambit, and the two finally checked in. Gambit had followed the vans all the way to a warehouse, and spent the rest of his time investigating all the access points, security detail, and weapons they would be up against. They officially had enough information to mount a rescue effort, but now the question was whether they would take care of it themselves or call in the police.

Some were very much opposed to letting the police handle it, and Rahne was as well. The police in Bayville were more or less neutral toward mutants, unless one fell upon their radar. It stood to reason that they might not take action—and honestly, it was doubtful that they even could. What reason would they have to infiltrate the base? Without a proper warrant and information, they couldn't do anything—and the information that the Institute members could provide wouldn't be enough to stand up in court.

Ultimately, these people were non-powered humans: any mutant retaliation leveled upon them would be twisted to reflect upon all mutants. If they were to go in full-force with their powers, they would once more be putting themselves on the chopping block. They would be the ones "in the wrong" for invading private property—Gambit had checked with his Guild contacts, and the building was owned by someone. Whether that person was a member or not was unclear, though suspicion pointed towards "definitely". For now, Logan and Gambit were watching and waiting outside the building, keeping an eye on the situation, but there were a lot of people there. Even with their powers, they couldn't fight trained security guards and civilian members on their own, so they would need backup—if they were going to go in.

Her heart almost stopped in her chest as the Professor said that they had no choice if there was a chance that they could be made an example of, upholding the values that he tried so hard to teach. Despite the knowledge of his position, despite having felt that way herself and knowing that taking the higher ground was better in the long run for all mutants… oh, her stomach was twisted up under her rib cage, and all she could think was, It'll be too late!

The fear that they wouldn't get to them on time was overwhelming.

Kitty vocally expressed that same sentiment inside the room, loudly and shrilly. Rahne would have crumpled had she not been leaning against the wall. Her hands clenched and unclenched rapidly. Throat tight, she swung around the doorway as well, having to use the frame to keep herself upright. "Ye are willin' to risk them," she managed.

In the meeting room, heads turned her way. Dimly, she was surprised to note that the remaining members of the Brotherhood were also present. They would have protested alongside her and Kitty. Sympathy, surprise, regret, all flowed on different faces, but she locked her eyes on the Professor. Pleading with him.

He was not surprised to see her, and neither did he look as though he was certain of his decision. "The reasons—"

"Ye are willin' to gamble with their lives."

"Rahne."

She shook her head, feeling tears well up in her eyes. I am not. Turning heel, she walked as fast as she could through the metal corridors of the medical facilities and ducked around the nearest corner, supporting herself on the wall.

No. She couldn't cry now. She had to think of a plan, she had to—she had to do something.

She had to do something…

Her eyes blurred the corridor. She heard feet in the hallway, the senior team most likely. Viciously, she reinforced her mental shields, imagining them with barbed wire and broken glass. Painful, if either the Professor or Jean tried to find her. Let them feel her pain, she didn't care, she just wanted her (mate) Sam

A small hand landed on her arm and pulled her back through a wall. She blinked as the light flickered on in a storage closet, opened her mouth, and a gloved hand clapped over it. She blinked at Rogue through her watery, dazed eyes, seeing only sympathy and determination. Her gaze flickered to the second person with them.

Kitty's eyes burned. "We are not leaving it to the police."


(Vigilante or not, in her soul she knew it was right.)

Hours after leaving the medical wing, overhearing a conversation, and being dragged into a much better one, Rahne opened her closet door. She rooted through until she found items that matched Kitty's hasty description.

"Form-fitting material, just make sure you can fight. Dark colors. We want to blend with the shadows. We'll go in sooner than anyone, but the cover of night is essential."

The pile on her bed would do, with a few additions. She sprinted out of her room, moving two doors down to Tabitha's. Rogue was already there, and in silence the two girls found what they needed to borrow. Their teammate wouldn't mind: she had what she called an "open-closet" policy.

"Make sure you have a belt of some kind—we're bringing weapons with us."

Back in her room, Rahne stripped off her clothing. The pressure bandages around her ribs would help, but just in case, she downed a couple of the pain pills given to her and made a mental note to store a couple more. She switched to a sports bra and slid her thinnest tank top on, then a pair of black tights so she didn't have to worry about socks. Pulled up her leather pants, the ones that Logan had taken one look at and declared he'd never let her ride the motorcycle and to go put on something modest. They were skintight, but she'd worn them enough—when Logan was not home—that they were broken in, and she could move easily. She tucked the tank top into the waistband.

"Our shields should be fine, but avoid Jean and the Professor. It won't be surprising that you and I want to be alone."

A long-sleeved modified uniform top went on next: stretchy, tough material which was less likely to rip. It was missing the shoulder protectors, but cut high to the neck and covered most of her skin. She tucked gloves that Rogue had slipped her into her pocket. They were made of similar material to the uniform top and had modified fingers so that she could remove the tips. Her teammate whispered, "Gambit" in explanation, also slipping her a small bagged meal—made in haste in the kitchen, and eaten quickly and quietly in her room alone.

"I'll bring what we need. Meet at the honeysuckle bushes when dinner is halfway through."

She wove Tabitha's belt around her waist, through the belt loops of her pants. She's added simple cloth straps to it, which would hold whatever Kitty brought, and thanked Logan for the military/survival lessons he'd sprung on them a few times over the years. Then she sat and laced Tabitha's combat boots onto her own feet: the indentations weren't perfectly broken in to her feet, but they were comfortable and the right size. She took slow and even breaths against the dull pain

"We have the training, the skills, the knowledge, and—thanks to Rogue—necessary help."

She was tired, but the energy from adrenaline would keep her going—as would a little bit of extra help. She grabbed a purported energy-in-a-bottle that she and Rogue had each snatched from Tabitha's room. Downing it quickly, she then ran her fingers through her hair. Binding it tightly in braids close to her head, she took a moment to run a damp washcloth over her face to help wake her up. She stared at herself in the mirror, the sun sinking outside and casting shadows against the wall. Evening approached.

"We're going to get them back ourselves."