Where is she?" I roared when I finally reached the laboratory area. The last time I'd come down, Hank had been sitting at the desk in front of the bullet-proof glass and the locked door, waiting to let anyone in who came down, but he was gone now. Fiercely, I dragged my hooked fingers down the door, feeling for some sort of button or knob, and I beat my palm against the window for attention, but he didn't peek his head around the corner either, so I knew something was goin' down. His files were in disarray; papers were spilled all over the floor, and a cup of coffee somebody had knocked over had drenched the chair and been absorbed into the pages of one of his medical books.

I hit the glass once more, hollering at the top of my voice - mostly screaming Rogue's name, but bellowing for Hank as well. My claws slid out from the webbing between my fingers finally, ready to slash the door down, but right before I started cutting, I saw the keypad sitting unobtrusively next to the door, the blue LCD screen flashing innocently. Through the haze of panic, Hank's instructions came back to me, and I punched in my code and impatiently leaned in to let it scan my eye, drumming on the door all along to hurry things up. There wasn't any hitch in identifying me, and pretty soon the door slid open, so I could run into the lab.

"Rogue!"

"Back here!" came a woman's breathless voice. For a moment, I thought it was Rogue, and my breathing fell back into a normal rhythm, but then I recognized Ororo.

"Storm? Where is she?" I demanded, running towards the sound of her voice. "Where's Rogue? I heard she's down here; I need to know she's okay."

Ororo stepped up to me, pressing a finger against her lips to indicate silence. There was no judgment in her eyes, however, nor anger. Instead, she looked frightened, and that scared me. "Hush, Logan. Yes, Rogue is down here. Come with me, I'll show you where she is."

Eager for news, I trotted at her heels as she led me deeper into the lab. We came to a second door, a white one, with a similar keypad on it, and Storm quickly punched in a code and then pressed her finger against a small circle. "Blood test," she said softly when she caught me looking at her curiously. "This is the wing where John is being kept. It's even tighter security than the first one, to make sure nobody gets in without permission. You shouldn't be in here, but just this once --"

"Why's Rogue down this way?" I asked, but then I remembered what Hank had told me about her duties. "Kinda late to be feeding the prisoners, isn't it?"

Storm pressed her lips together tightly until they made a straight line. Her dark eyes flashed dangerously as she looked me over, suddenly irritated. "That was hours ago," she said dismissively. "This, however --"

"What?"

"I should allow the Professor to tell you what happened. It's not for me to say, anyway. I wasn't down here at the time, and I don't know if you have the clearance yet to be informed about --"

"You better tell me!" It came out a growl as I caught hold of her, leaning menacingly close. "Tell me right now!"

She flinched and looked away from me, but she didn't struggle, as if she knew I was in no state of mind to be toyed with. "There was an incident about an hour ago. Hank was finishing up some paper work when John contacted him - there is an intercom system, so that John can request assistance in case of emergency. Hank usually doesn't respond, because all he does is complain that we're -- well, not relevant," she said quickly as I glared. "From what I understand, John claimed not to be feeling well, and then he passed out while Hank was watching the security screen. Naturally, Hank was extremely concerned for John's well being, so he called Rogue to come down and assist him in getting John care." For a moment, she paused. "Mind letting me go, Logan? I'll tell you on the way, but we'll get to her faster if you don't insist on holding me here."

I let go instantly. "Go on."

"Thank you," she managed, sarcastic and courteous at the same time. She started moving again, leading me down white-washed tunnels to some kind of area I hadn't seen before. "As I said, Hank contacted Rogue to help him during the medical exam. I'm sure Hank has mentioned, Rogue is used in all transfers, to make sure John's powers cannot be used to harm any team member and to prevent him from trying to leave the premises. Well, Rogue came down and they brought John into the containment lab - the secure lab, used in the security wing - but John had been feigning. Somehow, he had managed to find a match. When he lit it, he was armed."

"But, with Rogue --"

"No, unfortunately. Right at first, yes; Rogue spotted the fireball before he could launch it at Hank, and she immediately started to withdraw his powers from him, but he was able to manipulate the fire to attack her before she could contain it all. That wouldn't have been a problem, but Scott, who had heard about the emergency, came in, and the second he saw Rogue seemingly alight, he ran and tried to pull her out of the fire. Rogue has immense control over power now, but not enough to simultaneously use it and resist it. She shut it down on instinct, for Scott's protection, and the remaining fire engulfed her for a matter of seconds."

I was shaking, my legs gone weak with the news. Numbly, I looked at Ororo, desperate. "Is she okay?"

"I'm not entirely certain, Logan. I'm not a medical doctor. But, we're here."

She led me into a room that looked similar to the sections of the lab I'd seen before, all clean white tiling for the walls, the marble floors washed and waxed and reeking of medicinal tang. This lab was a flurry of activity, however, busier than I'd ever seen the other part. Hank, blue fur spouting out from the collar and sleeves of his crisp white coat, was at the head of one of the silver tables, and I knew it was Rogue lying there, but for a minute I couldn't see her because of the crowd. Cyke stood next to Hank, clutching at Rogue from the looks of it, shaking and crying and moaning out loud. Beside him was Chuck in his chair, holding a stack of bandages for Hank to use as he patched her up. Kurt and Warren were there, and two women I didn't think I'd met before and couldn't be bothered to notice.

"Rogue?" Her name sounded ragged and guttural, like someone had torn it from me against my will. "Rogue!" Carelessly, I shoved Warren aside when he stepped in front of me, holdin' his hands up. All he wanted was to calm me down, but I couldn't spare a second for him, or anyone else who wanted to get in between me and her. "Rogue!"

"Logan." It was Chuck, his voice ringin' in my head so loud and powerful it didn't matter that he hadn't spoken aloud. Opening his mouth, he said, "step over here and I'll explain what's going on." He backed away from the table, giving me a glimpse of Rogue's pale arm looped in a piece of singed fabric. She didn't seem to be wearin' much of nothin' but she was a mess of clear plastic tubes: I saw a silver IV needle jutting into the delicate skin of her inner elbow; the scarlet transfusion tube thick with blood snaking around her upper arm and under a bandage on her shoulder, and the thin line of an oxygen feeder sliding along her chin to reach the mask that covered her mouth.

I shook Chuck off, wanting to see her, needing to move closer to Rogue, but he seemed to anticipate that, and gripped my mind within his powers again. "Logan, Rogue has been badly injured. I understand your desperation to check on her, but Hank is currently in the middle of some delicate work and cannot tolerate the distraction; please, come over here and let me tell you what's happening."

Somehow, I did what he'd asked. He must have put some force behind it, because even though I couldn't tear my eyes away from the sight of her, my legs started movin' in the other direction. I watched her for a minute, staring at the body parts I could see; only Rogue's arm, shoulder and the side of her face were visible to me, and just for a second too, because pretty soon somebody ran in the door I'd just come in, and hurried over to the table, unencumbered by Chuck. It was Bobby.

"What's he doin'? Why can't I --"

"Bobby, like Rogue, has received some basic medical training while here, and he has covered enough course material with Hank to serve as a nursing assistant and phlebotomist during emergencies such as this one. Please, Logan, allow him to do his work. You will be able to see her as soon as everything is stable." Chuck sighed and glanced over at Storm, who handed Bobby a cloth, watched him freeze it, and used it to wipe Rogue's forehead while bending down low and whispering something into her ear. "I trust Ororo filled you in on what has happened?"

"Yeah. She said -- Pyro did this?"

"He did." Always one to try and find the good in people, Chuck sighed. "To his credit, although he seemed more than willing to use his powers against Rogue when he knew she was fully armed, so to speak, a few seconds after he realized what was happening to her, he extinguished the flames he had created. I was able to re-incarcerate him almost at once, although not without further struggle. I am grateful he spared her, but nonetheless, Rogue was injured, and it is fairly serious."

"She's been burned? Is it bad?"

"Yes; however, not as badly as she could have been. The majority of her burns are first degree, with some second degree damage on her right side. She is rather lucky that her clothing caught fire first. Most of it is destroyed, but it perhaps afforded her some protection initially. Our major concern, unfortunately, is heat and smoke inhalation. The smoldering clothes and the office equipment that burned created a great deal of smoke. Even more worrisome, she breathed in the heat source directly; it was engulfing her when she restrained her power. There is some damage to her trachea and upper airway as well as minimal, but still worrisome, damage to the lung area. She can breathe, I believe - but for the time being, it is extremely painful, and I am not sure what medical routes Hank can take to heal this."

"Rogue," I found myself sayin' softly. My eyes stung and smarted, almost like I had smoke in them myself, and I rubbed at them with the heel of my hand. "Chuck, let me see her. I've gotta see- I gotta know she'll be all right."

Chuck nodded somberly. "Hank is dealing with the respiratory issues, with some assistance from Ororo, and I would advise you to stay out of their way to ensure the best care for Rogue, but if you wish to help in other means, it will be fine so long as you keep yourself restrained. Any outbursts, and I will remove you from the lab." I'd never seen a guy in a wheelchair look menacing before, but if anybody could do it, Chuck could.

Warren thrust a cold, damp bed-sheet into my hands as soon as I hurried over to the table. I gave him a blank look, and he pointed at Rogue as he carefully took the old sheet off. "Put that on her, very gently. It'll draw off some of the heat. Try to apply the least pressure possible. I'll dump this one in the bin and get some new ones ready. When you're done with the sheet, elevate her legs some, about a foot. It'll keep her from going into shock, if we're lucky."

I spread my arms wide to hold the sheet, and then I had my first real look at Rogue since I'd seen her days before. She was still, small and utterly unconscious lying on the silver table with no sheets or padding under her. If I just looked at her face, I could convince myself she was only resting, except for the breathing mask, because her hair had not been singed and there were no burns on her face or neck, but her entire right side, from collarbone to hip, was angry red, and there were some marks on her thighs, almost like the pattern of a slap where a hand hits. Deep purple-red grooves marred her right arm in streaks, as though she'd held her hand up to fight the flames, and I realized, when she started to look blurry, that I was actually tearing up. Quickly, I spread the sheet over her, letting it fall gently against her hurt skin with as much care as I could take.

Drake nudged me, and I remembered what Warren had said, so I caught hold of her ankles and held them up about a foot higher than the rest of her was, feeling insecure and completely lost. He handed me a couple of towels right away though, that I could use to prop up her legs, so I did. There was nothing else I had to do, so I leaned in, trying to blink away the tears so I could see what Hank was doing to her. I kept my hands on her legs, rubbing her calves up to her knees and trying to say reassuring things to her, same as Cyke was doing right into her ear, as he held her left hand in a crushing grip and told her how sorry he was. At the moment, I didn't even want to fight him for touching her, being with her because he looked so damn pitiful. I did want to rip Pyro apart though.

"Where's the match stick?" I growled over to Kurt.

He nodded towards a containment cell, and I could see eyes watching me through the tiny grid of fracture-resistant glass. "No, Logan," Kurt said as I started to move over to it, fists clenched. "We must not risk further harm to anyone by opening that door unprepared. Wait until Rogue has been treated and is well enough to move. Charles will disable Pyro, and then we can begin to understand what happened and why. But Logan," he continued, "we must not look to retaliation to provide our satisfaction. The ultimate goal is forgiveness."

My stare must have said something, because he took a step back and frowned apologetically. "I understand your anger --"

"No, I don't think you do, bub."

"I just don't think anything can be done in this case. Attacking and further angering Pyro won't bring you peace, and it won't cure the damage caused to Rogue."