"The Dividing Line"

Chapter Eight: "Am I 1?"

Kurt expertly landed the jet next to the impressive, razor-sharp shape of the Blackbird. Logan got out first, dragging his bike along, followed by the Professor, Jean, Kitty and Scott, who was carrying Rogue. Kurt immediately took hold of Kitty and teleported out of there, hoping to make an accurate leap to the medical wing. Scott raised an eyebrow. Why couldn't they have done that?

"Apart from apparent exhaustion, there is nothing wrong with her physically." Charles said, not bothering to pretend he wasn't reading Scott's thoughts, "For the procedure, however, I will need Cerebro."

"Lead the way." Scott said.

Jean took point along with Charles.


Cerebro, Scott saw, was now housed in a large room at the very edge of the tactical floor. The room was bare apart from two apparent fixtures: one was the computer itself, taking up almost the entirety of the far wall, more than half of which was devoted to the screen. The console, drawing a semi-circle in the middle of it, also housed the operating helmet.

In the middle of the room was a bed. It was basic, a metal frame containing a pure white mattress, pillow and sheets, ad it was lying in the middle of a reinforced glass dome. The dome was large enough to allow a few people inside.

Scott walked around the dome until he located a door knob. He pulled it and slinked inside. He gently laid Rogue down, taking great care to adjust her body so that it would be in as neutral a position as possible.

He ran a hand down her cheek.

"It's alright." He whispered, hoping she'd hear him, "It'll all be alright. I'll be waiting for you."

Rogue's lips moved, only once. Scott thought he could see what she was saying.

Let go.


After the Professor retrieved the helmet, he moved his wheelchair into the dome and closed it. Jean took Scott gently by the arm and led him out of the room. The blast doors closed and all that was left to them was the silence.


In the backyard of that old home, small, with dead grass and dead leaves under her bare feet. Dark skies overhead, with a tint of sickly green and dark brown. The woods, shrouded in the shadows between the crooked, twisted trees, surrounding the house, all of its dark secrets and terrible inhabitants kept back by the rotted fence.

Toys at her feet. Wooden cars. Meant for a boy. They never had a boy, or had they lost him? She didn't remember. But maybe, they didn't even belong to her. Belonged to them.

She listened in. The humming silence of the woods were undisturbed. Rogue, confused, tried to get a feel for her environment. Searched for those that she had gotten used to.

Nobody there. Nobody but herself.

Rogue stood up, her toes digging into the dirt. The woods were abandoned now, and so was her home. She turned and faced the porch. Two steps up, one step forward and there it would be, the door. Part of her shriveled, urging her to back away, repeating that they should look elsewhere.

No. Rogue felt that it was time. She had earned the right. She had given everything, everything had left her and she was left to herself in this home. Cold and alone.

She got to the door and put one hand on the door handle. She braced herself before pulling it open. A blinding light issued forth from inside the house and she stumbled forward, squinting in attempt to see.

All she could see was white.


Scott shifted uncomfortably. He was nervous, but it wasn't just that. He was hyperaware of Jean's proximity, of her mere presence, and his mind was intent in splitting his attention between his concern for Rogue and the last proper conversation he had had with Jean. No matter what had happened, he couldn't deny that he still cared for her, more than he'd be willing to admit.

"Oh, will you please stop shifting already?" Jean asked, "You're making me nervous."

"Sorry."

Silence.

"I want you to know," Scott said, softly, "That I never intended... for any of this to happen."

Jean smiled bitterly.

"If you had, you wouldn't be the Scott Summers I know and love."

"Jean, I..."

"I'm not gonna lie to you and say it doesn't hurt. It hurts. It hurt worse when you left, or when you said you didn't even want to know I existed, but... it still hurts."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. The downside of being a telepath, Scott, is that you can't always shut everything out."

Scott didn't say anything.

"You always felt," Jean said, "that I was perfect. You even concurred with the whole Miss Perfect thing. I knew almost everybody was calling me that behind my back, but the fact that you thought it held weight was more painful than anything facing me right now."

"Well, have you noticed yourself?" Scott asked, his voice warm and friendly.

Jean huffed in mild frustration.

"Scott, you're always so quick to point out my flaws to me when we're fighting, but you seem to forget all about it when we make up. In a fight, I go from being Miss Perfect to being a bundle of flaws strung up by an image I project. When we're good, I'm Miss Perfect again."

"I say shit out of anger, it's not always true, and it's not always right, that's why I-"

"You meant it. Every time. It didn't take a telepathic link to tell me that, either." Jean said, "You've always had this idea in your head that you could force the world to come to terms with how flawed, how fallible you were if you could only mask it all. With me, you always felt that I was so out there, so above and beyond it all, that you just couldn't measure up."

Scott hung his head. There wasn't anything in what she had said that wasn't true.

"So you strived to be better, and I would adore that, but you didn't stop there. You tried to be perfect. You tried to be on the level with me, and my level, well, you just sort of decided what that was on your own. You hid things from me, you tried to hide things anyway, because you didn't want me to see how... what was it that you called it? Oh yeah, how low you were."

Jean prodded Scott's chest with one finger, almost playfully.

"Your confidence is a sham, Scott Summers. Cyclops is just a mask. You put it on to keep people from seeing how insecure you are."

"I guess that's true."

"And I was almost jealous of Rogue, to a degree."

"A-ha!" Scott said, smiling, "I knew it!"

"Everybody knew it. Just like how everybody knew she was fixated on you."

Scott's smile vanished.

"But that wasn't why." Jean said, one hand running through his hair, "I was always a bit jealous 'cause you were giving to her the one thing you never gave to me: yourself."

"You can't claim-"

"Don't get defensive, Mr. Sensitive, I wasn't finished. God, this is so you. Wait for me to finish what I was going to say, please?"

Scott crossed his arms.

"You were honest with her. You showed her who you really were, flaws and all. You showed her that you were just as imperfect as the rest of us. You felt like she would understand, because hey, it was a two-way street."

"Guess it was, yeah..."

"And you always noticed her, always worried about her – part of your mind was dedicated to her. I knew what you felt, and it was more than simple affection. I understood well enough. I didn't like it, at all, but I understood. Didn't mean you were a bad guy."

"I always thought you'd wring my neck or something if I actually felt something more."

Jean threw her hands up, groaning.

"Ugh! She said the same thing! I'm not some green-eyed monster hell-bent on snuffing people out just because they might feel something for each other!"

Scott held up his hands.

"Alright, alright, forget I said anything... sorry."

"Anyway... I want you to know that I won't stand in the way of this." Jean said.

"Jean..."

"It will take everything I have, but I won't stand in the way. You told me we were through months ago. I should have taken a hint."

"It wasn't-"

"I know it wasn't because Rogue was there... not consciously, anyway."

"I never intended to hurt you."

"I know." Jean said, trying to hold back tears, "And doesn't it just hurt so much?"

"Yes. Yes it does."

Jean smiled, but Scott could see that she was trying to put on a brave face. Instead of cutting loose, she did what she always did – redirected. She turned his head to the side and examined the three parallel gashes on his cheek.

"You need stitches... and a crapload of disinfectant." Jean said, "Come on. Let's get you patched up."

Scott hesitated.

"Don't worry." Jean said, "She'll be here when you get back."


The white room, purer than it had ever been, surrounded her and Rogue found herself feeling filthy against the virginal space. She looked down and found herself fully dressed. Boots, with green Velcro straps... Rogue recognized the ensemble – right down to the transparent, green top and spiked choker. She had been wearing these clothes that night... the night when everything had changed.

Footsteps. Rogue looked ahead, her eyes adjusting to the lighting and saw him. He was as he always had been. He was wearing that sweater she had gotten him for Christmas a lifetime ago. He had his glasses on and he was smiling warmly. Rogue shivered as he put a gentle hand on her neck. He pulled her closer and kissed her. Rogue flung her arms around him and deepened the kiss, sighing, content.

When they withdrew, Rogue found his ever-present smile gone. She withdrew her arms and took a step back. She understood. This wasn't the dream. This was the end of the dream.

"You're not Scott." Rogue said.

"I'm so sorry."

"Then who are you?"

"I'm you."

"You're... me?"

"I'm the Rogue. I'm the one beneath the Rogue. You were me, once. But you touched Cody, and you forgot me. You buried me, and became someone else. Became the Rogue. But the Rogue isn't a person. It's a blank slate, a concept. Anybody can be the Rogue, because the Rogue can be anybody."

"And you're me... the real me."

"Yes."

"Then why do you look like Scott?"

"Because you love him."

Rogue averted her gaze.

"You don't love me." Scott's voice said, "You never loved me. You care for him more than you ever cared for me. That's why I took his shape. You couldn't hurt me if I was him. You'd keep me safe, because you want to keep him safe."

Rogue recalled all the times her dream-Scott had told her that he was safe.

"You were safe because Ah couldn't – nah, Ah wouldn't hurt Scott. Not by choice."

The image in front of her nodded in response.

"Then who am Ah?"

"You're me."

"And you're me."

"Yes."

"So what does that mean?"

"I don't know."

"What's mah name?"

"I don't remember that."

"But you said-"

"Some things are lost forever. Some things, you forgot more thoroughly than others. You wanted to be somebody else so badly..."

"But now Ah'm nobody. Ah'm nothin. Even he..."

"There's a reason why you thought I was him for the longest time. It's because he's here, inside you. Always has been. With every touch, he gave to you more of his soul – you didn't take it. You didn't steal it. He gave it to you. What more can you ask of him?"

"Ah can't. Ah never had the right to ask for nothin... not of him. He did everythin he could and never asked for nothin in return."

The Scott visage smiled and nodded.

"I don't know if you're ready." The vision said, "I don't know if you're ready to be me again. One touch, and you'd just forget me all over again. But unfortunately, you need me, as much as I need you. And, he needs you."

"Nobody needs me."

"You've seen him. You know him. You know what he feels."

"He..."

"There's nothing wrong with saying it."

"He... loves me."

"Yes. Even if he hasn't quite gotten around to putting it to thoughts. He cares for you more than he ever cared for himself. That's who you're protecting him from – himself. That's why he's safe. You're giving him something few others can give to another. You accept him. You know him inside and out, parts untouched and unexplored, and you accept him for who he is, wholly."

Rogue didn't shirk from this thought – inside, deep inside herself, as much as there was a herself left, she knew that she wanted this. Wanted him.

"So..." Rogue said, "What now?"

"I think it's up to you."

"But if Ah wake up..."

"I don't know what will happen. No-one can tell you."

"What will Ah find when Ah open mah eyes?"

"I think you'll find the world."

"...Ah'm scared."

"Aren't we all..?"

"Ah hope... Ah'll be better this time. Yeah, Ah'll be better..."

Rogue felt tears pouring out. He reached in and pulled her close.

"I believe in you." He said.

Quiet tears...