Virago
Chapter Nine

The commandos had attacked fast and hard. All thirteen of them were highly skilled, and it took all of Angel's energy just to defend himself.

But he kept reminding himself to think of only the positives. Wolverine had eventually rendered one third of the unit unconscious. Or maybe dead. Although he sustained two gun shot wounds on his body, and several more through his wings, he was still alive and standing. And fighting.

And they had found Garrison.

The man seemed sprightly as he fought beside the X-Men, expertly defending himself against a commando who attempted to stun him. But he stumbled often, as if he kept losing balance. This was not the same man who had injected Rogue with what they had believed to be a miracle.

'Angel, get down!' Jean Grey commanded from behind him.

Knowing the young woman's power, he did as he was told. The commando who was trying to stab him flew backwards in the air, hitting the wall hard enough to create a dent in the concrete. There was very little chance he would survive the impact.

Angel sent Jean Grey a silent thank you, turning and making his way towards Garrison. Shadowcat had come in from behind the commando that was attacking the old doctor, and was in the middle of taking him down. She seemed like a tiny and frail doll beside the commando, but she held her ground admirably. Still, the commando's strength still dwarfed her.

Though he detested the weapons, Angel was blessed with accurate and deadly aim. He picked up a revolver from a dead commando's hand and carefully sighted his target. 'Shadowcat!' he shouted, hoping that she could read his mind and would know what to do.

Angel squeezed the trigger, the recoil jarring his wounded shoulder slightly. The bullet passed through the commando's chest, through the X-Man, and into the wall behind them. The commando slumped. Shadowcat offered him a wan smile and nod, then proceeded towards Garrison.

*

'She's fading fast. We don't have much time left.'

'Jean and the others?'

'They ran into the commandos and are engaged in hostilities. But they have found Garrison alive.'

'They will need to get back as soon as possible.'

'I have sent Jean a message. All we can do for now is wait.'

'And hope.'

*

Even as he hurried forward, Angel saw Garrison fall. A bullet through the chest. Two more followed even as the doctor was stumbling backwards.

He froze, his heart falling in unison with the old man. No! Garrison was their only hope for Rogue's life! Spurred on by Shadowcat's cry of alarm, Angel ran to Garrison's side.

But it was not Garrison who lay amongst the debris of their battle. A blue skinned woman moaned in pain in place of the doctor.

'Mystique,' Shadowcat breathed out.

Angel had often heard of Rogue speak of a woman named Mystique. A woman she despised and wished dead many times. The only person who could twist Rogue's face into a mask of hatred.

Her mother.

*

Scott gazed down at Rogue. Eyes closed, long dark lashes contrasting against pale skin. She looked innocuously asleep. Had it not been for the silent machines that surrounded her bed, it would be difficult for anyone to believe that she was close to death.

He swallowed hard, pushing those dark thoughts from his mind. All that mattered was her life, that she would open her eyes and live. Laugh and smile again, like she had been doing the past few days.

Forcing shaky hands to keep steady, Scott slowly reached out and skimmed his fingers along the lines of her face. Her skin was smooth, almost silky, and unbelievably soft. Like rose petals. He had often wondered what it would be like to caress her cheeks, even back when she had been caked with thick layers of makeup.

'I'm sorry,' he whispered to her, hoping that she could hear him. 'I'm sorry you felt that you couldn't come to me, and I'm sorry if I ever hurt you.'

He ran his fingers through her hair, through the white stripes that framed her face. Gossamer threads. He gently tucked several stray strands behind her ear, his touch lingering along the curves of the lobes.

'I'm sorry I was too slow in realising how deeply you meant to me,' Scott continued. Rogue, 'I'm so sorry that I never told you how much I cared for you. Please, don't die.'

*

She wasn't dead, not yet, but she was close. She was staring up, her yellow eyes somewhat disconcerting, but full of pain.

'Rogue…' She spoke in a tender, almost loving manner. 'Kurt…'

'What the hell is this?' Wolverine's rough voice filled the air, jolting Angel from his shock. 'Mystique!'

'The commandos are retreating, is Garrison…?' Jean Grey had joined them, but she trailed off as her eyes fell on "Garrison".

Nightcrawler was the last to join them. 'What's going-' He froze.

At the sound of his voice, Mystique turned her head and finally focused. She seemed to smile. 'My son.'

Angel took a step back, allowing Nightcrawler greater room as the younger man kneeled down beside the fallen mutant. 'Mystique? I don't understand…'

'Garrison,' Wolverine growled. 'Where is he? We need him alive.'

'I did it all for you, Kurt, for both you and Rogue,' Mystique said, ignoring Wolverine.

But Angel felt his heart tighten at the implications of the X-Man's words. If Garrison were dead because of Mystique, then her death would be relief compared to his wrath if Rogue were to die. He glared down at the dying woman. 'Did what?' he demanded, his tone harsher than he expected.

Nightcrawler sat back, creating space between him and his mother. 'What did you, Mystique?' His voice had grown cold and detached.

'I gave him everything he needed to create the microbe, and it worked. But it kills,' Mystique murmured, clearly hurt by Nightcrawler's actions. She tried reaching out to her son, but was too weak. Nightcrawler kept still.

With a sigh, she continued. 'I found out too late the deadly side effect of taking it. By then Rogue had already…'

'You sent her the magazine,' Angel breathed out, realisation hitting him. 'You're the one who's killing her!'

Surprisingly, the woman smiled. 'But she was so happy, wasn't she?' Mystique opened her eyes once more, and sought out Angel's. 'You, you make her happy, but with touch…'

He knew, and he understood. When Rogue had first touched him without the aid of any material between them, the look on her face had been…indescribable. She had never before seemed so alive.

Yet, ironically, it was what was slowly killing her.

He hardened. 'She's dying.'

Anguish filled Mystique's face. 'I know.'

'Where is Garrison?' Nightcrawler demanded.

Mystique said nothing. She had become still where she lay. Too still…

Angel – Warren - felt all air leave his body. His whole world shattered around him, crumbled into dust at his feet. Garrison remained missing. Mystique, the one person who would know his whereabouts, was dead.

Rogue was dying.

And there was nothing he could do.

*

He glanced at the silent man beside him. Then down at the speedometer. He was dangerously exceeding the speed limit. Clenching his jaw, he pushed down even harder on the accelerator.

'Almost there.' He spoke quietly, more to himself than his companion. 'Please, don't die.'

end chapter nine.