**********
Finally the time came when Rogue could find no suspected cars anywhere near them.
We lost them, she said. When she slowed down and looked outside, she realised something else. But I have no idea where we are.
Scott rested his head in his hands, trying to ignore the headache. Now was not a good time to get carsick. He *never* got carsick, he told his stomach. His hand stung a little and made his face wet. He must have cut himself on the glass, in spite of the coat.
Look for signs and tell me when you find one, he said.
She sat silently for a while watching the road, wishing there was something she could say to him. Right now, what she wanted more than anything else was to be rocked like a baby and told that everything would be alright. It wasn't fair, she shouldn't have to be on the run like this. None of them had deserved this.
She scorned herself for her childish thoughts. Fair had nothing to do with it.
When she saw a sign she almost jumped. There's one! 5 miles to New Castle. Is that close? Being a southerner, she had never learned much New York geography.
Well, it's Westchester. He thought for a while. Okay, try finding a small road, but keep track of how you're driving so you don't get lost. Whatever you do, stay off the highway, that's the last place we want to be with a stolen car.
she said, doing as she was told.

It's getting dark.
He grabbed her arm. Where's the sun?
She was taken by surprise. That way. She could have bitten her tongue off. Sorry. Behind us.
Okay, stop. We're going in the wrong direction.
She pulled over. Maybe we should stop for the night. We could need some food She looked down on her strange appearance. Not to mention some other clothes.
And probably a vehicle that wasn't stolen, he snapped. What do you want to do, knock on someone's door and say: 'Excuse me, we're two mutants on the run, can you take care of us please?' He regretted that remark as soon as he had said it. This was most certainly not Rogue's fault, and a good leader never made his teammates suffer the consequences of a bad mood. But the darkness got to him so badly he could hardly even think.
Rogue hesitated. She had a suggestion, but she knew Scott wouldn't like it.
I could steal some. Clothes, I mean.
His mouth twisted a little. What, from a clothesline?
I could absorb someone, very briefly, and take their clothes. She spoke in a quiet voice; she didn't like the thought one bit.
Never use your power against an unarmed human. Well, in his case that wasn't even a possibility anymore. And in hers desperate times needs desperate measures. He knew what it took for her to even suggest such a thing.
You can still do it? he asked, not quite able to suppress the envy.
She really didn't want to talk about that, but part of her wanted him to know. They took pieces of my skin away, but it didn't make any difference.
What do you reply to something like that? *I'm sorry*? Okay, but be careful.
I will.
Rogue walked back to the main road, slowly taking her gloves off and keeping watch for any car to pass by. Since she could never pass for innocent hitchhiker she decided on madwoman and starting pacing to and fro by the road. Surely sooner or later someone would be compassionate or curious enough to stop.
Two trucks passed her by, accelerating when they saw her. Part of her was grateful. Even though her powers let her take down anyone with a touch, truck drivers still intimidated her. A few minutes later, a passenger car pulled over, and a man stepped out of it. Rogue began to mutter to herself, while her heart pounded away. Let's try those acting abilities.
Hey, girl, are you alright? The stranger's voice was tender. Rogue did a frightened animal thing: jumped, turned around and stared at the man with big scared eyes. He was about Scott's size. Good. Trouble was, that still left *her* without proper clothes.
The man approached her slowly, hands held out in a friendly gesture. When he had come close enough, she grabbed on of his hands and waited until he gasped for breath before she let go. The guilt she felt immediately disappeared when his thoughts reached her mind. What a sleaze. Quickly, she put on her gloves and started undressing the man. That was not something she had done before, and certainly not something she thought she would experience like this. Fortunately, he was a sleaze in warm clothing. Shirt, sweater *and* jacket, that meant enough for both her and Scott. If only he had worn two pair of pants as well. Of course, she would look strange in pants that size anyway.
When she was done, she stuffed the man inside the car with some difficulty, then looked around for food. None in the glove compartment, but there was a bag on the floor. She dug through it and found a big French bread with ham and mustard. Her stomach rumbled happily, and she hurried back to Scott. His head jerked up when he heard her approach. It felt eerily surreal to see those sightless eyes instead of the usual ruby-red mirror image.
It's me, she said. She handed him the upper half of the bread and he immediately took a bite, showing that he was just as hungry as she was.
I thought you were going for clothes? he said.
I took his clothes too, but I figured this was more urgent.
His lips cracked in one of those rare smiles that made the girls in class fall down dead. Good thinking.
**********
They slept in the car that night. Tomorrow they would have to leave it and start walking. It would be difficult, since Rogue didn't have any shoes, but a whole lot safer than hitch-hiking. They were pretty easily recognized and had better stay away from people as much as possible.
It was hard to sleep for both of them. Scott managed to doze off for a few minutes, but waking up from a nightmare and finding himself in impenetrable darkness was so painful and frightening that he didn't dare to fall asleep again. He choked a sob and moved uneasily to find a more comfortable position. Rogue had gotten the backseat, and he hoped she had managed to sleep better than he had. It didn't seem like it, though. When he lay still and listened he heard her quiet sobs, and something else as well, a sound smaller than the nibbling of a mouse. It took him a while to figure out what it was. She was clawing her own skin. No, not her own, the foreign skin.
he whispered. Are you okay?
Her hands stilled, and she took a deep, uneven breath. She wasn't okay, not at all, she hadn't been less okay since the day she discovered her mutation.
I miss Logan, she said, and then wondered why *that* had been the first thing to come out of her mouth. It wasn't exactly something Scott would appreciate, everyone knew that he and Logan was far from friends.
Actually, Scott didn't mind, because he recognized that sense of longing in her voice. It was the same longing that had been in his thoughts since he woke up. And I miss Jean. At least we have each other. I couldn't have done this alone.
Me neither, she said. She was grateful for his company, but couldn't quite put that into words. Instead she reached out with a question that wouldn't leave her mind. Will it ever be alright? The pain had to lessen, she couldn't live on feeling this violated.
Scott didn't answer that at first, he had to fight the tears. The only thing that kept him sane in this darkness was to avoid the thought that it might last forever. God, Rogue, I really hope so.
She sat up and leaned forward, giving him her hand that was still clad in that despicable latex glove. As touches go, it wasn't perfect, but she needed it anyway. Part of her suspected that he might need it too. He pressed her hand gently and leaned backwards so that they could keep some sort of sleeping position while still holding onto each other. It didn't cure their insomnia or heal the pain. It just relieved it.
**********
Jean turned the key and opened the door to the cabin, reaching out with her mind for Scott. There was nothing. Her eyes wandered around the room and found it as neat and tidy as it used to be between visits. They're not here. But then where were they? They should have been back three days ago.
Logan sniffed the air, and a deep frown formed on his brow. They haven't been here either. I can't smell them.
Jean's concern turned into pure anxiety. Are you sure? Maybe the scent has just worn off.
He shook his head. No, I can smell 'Ro and Bobby, vaguely, but nothing at all from Scott or Rogue. His fists clinched. A long time ago, he had promised to take care of Rogue. Good job he was doing, if she could be missing for two weeks before he reacted.
That's it, I'm calling home. Jean picked up her cellphone and called the number for Xavier's office. Her hands was shaking when she waited for the professor to answer.
Xavier's school for gifted youngsters, Charles Xavier speaking.
It's Jean. I'm at the cabin, but they're not here, and Logan says they haven't been here at all.
There was a long silence in the other end of the line. She knew her thoughts wandered in the same direction hers had: that this meant they had been gone for almost two whole weeks. A lot can happen in two weeks.
I'll try to find them with Cerebro, he finally said.
Okay. Call us back when you find them. *If* he found them. After all, there was a possibility that Cerebro wouldn't pick up their brainwaves - because there was nothing to pick up. Good luck.
Jean put away the phone reluctantly. She would have wanted the professor there, he was the one person who cared for Scott as deeply as she did. But she guessed she had to settle for Logan. She sat down next to him on the sofa, and he turned to her with a look in his eyes she had never seen before.
Do you believe in God, Jeannie?
I guess, she said. It wasn't something she gave a lot of thought to.
Can you help me pray for my Marie, then? I don't know how to do it alone.
Most of the time, he used Rogue's nickname like everyone else. In this caressing way to use her real one, there was more love and despair than she could ever have expected from the rough Canadian.
Of course. She took his hand and with stumbling words and chaotic thoughts she tried to pray with him for the next couple of hours. *Let them be alive, let them be okay. Let us find them.* When the phone finally rang, they both jumped. Jean looked at Logan, her thoughts torn between hope and fear. If the professor had found them this quickly, it meant they were alive and not far away. But what if they were hurt? What if they were prisoners? What if
Answer it, he pleaded, and she took up the phone.

I found them. They're between New Castle and Bedford, heading east.
Are they okay? Jean was almost afraid to ask, and Xavier's hesitation told her all she needed to know.
They're alive and heading home. That's good news.
**********
Rogue felt awful waking up, but preferred this wake-up to any for the past two weeks. Looking up, she found that Scott wasn't in the car. She rose so quickly she bumped her head on the roof, but when all the little stars had cleared she could see Scott standing nearby, apparently washing his face in a rain barrel. She hadn't even noticed there was one. Stretching her still-sleeping legs, she left the car and walked up to him.

He turned to her. There was no point in asking if she had slept well. Neither of them had. I was thinking. We definitely want to dump the car, and we should probably get off the road altogether. Do you mind some walking?
She looked down on her feet that were just wearing socks.
He frowned. I didn't think of that. He sounded annoyed, as if it was a crime to not think of everything. Considering their situation, it probably was. Well, at least it's warm.
Most likely, it would proceed to downright hot before the day was over. It's okay, I can walk barefoot. It won't go fast, though.
He gave her a strained smile. Won't go fast no matter what.
They had never been friends before any of this happened, but now it hurt to see that smile. Gently she reached out for his hand and cursed latex when he winced just a little. Of course, his associations must be as bad as hers. She never wanted to get near another doctor for the rest of her life.
Although uncomfortable, walking was better than the car. The mind-numbing adrenaline left their bodies and allowed space for thoughts. Maybe the car was better after all. She tried to keep her mind on coming home, forcing happy thoughts on herself, but she found none. They said nothing as they walked along the road, some distance away but still following it. The only thing on their minds was not something they wanted to put into words.
At first, Rogue's steps were uneasy and hesitant, but soon her soles picked up the memories of all those summers she had walked barefoot as a kid, and she increased her pace as much as she could without making things difficult for Scott. He looked as stern and determined as ever, back straight in the leader position, but now and then he had a slight stumble and his jaw tightened. Since he was determined not to show her any sign of weakness, she never mentioned it and never made a big deal out of waiting for him.
After a few hours, she spotted a gas station and felt a little relieved. Not only did she really need to get some weight off her feet, but she was getting quite hungry, too. Places like these usually had food.
There's a gas station ahead. Is it okay if I go buy us something to eat?
Scott was surprised. Where did you get money? A thought struck him.
He only had about fifty bucks, but it's better than nothing. There wasn't much point in talking of ethics. Safety was their primary concern.
Okay. Do it. I think I'd better stay behind, though, we don't want any attention.
How could he be so calm?
And Rogue if they have a phone, try calling the professor.
I will.
Leaving Scott, she went to the gas station and walked up to the counter inside. She silently pep-talked herself to not be afraid. She had done this before, all the way from Mississippi to Canada. Only, then she wasn't quite as aware of what people would do to mutants. Trying to keep her voice clear, she spoke to the clerk and managed to order some chicken sandwiches and drinks to go. There was no reason he would look twice at her, she told herself. She had taken off her gloves before entering, and the white in her hair, as well as her lack of shoes, could just be some sort of trend.
He handed her a plastic bag. Anything else?
Do you have a phone I can use?
He nodded towards a corner. Over there.
As she dialed the number, the meaningless mumble from the radio suddenly became words she needed to listen to.
found in his car robbed of clothes and money. The man has suffered some sort of attack, but the doctors are not sure if this happened before the robbery or as a result of the same. According to his wife, the man had been wearing a worn, red denim jacket with star-shaped buttons, a grey sweater
Rogue's eyes met the clerk's, and she saw that he was looking at the jacket she was wearing. Her mouth got dry. Don't evoke suspicion. There must be several similar jackets, he had no reason to think but she couldn't stop the feeling that she was going to faint any minute.
The professor's voice in the phone.
She slowly put the earphone back in its place, pretending it had been a busy line. Without any hurry, she walked through the room, across the yard in front — and then ran as if chased by fire. When she got back to Scott, she grabbed him by the sleeve since she hadn't had time to put her gloves on, and pulled him with her. Run! Come on!
Not until after ten minutes did she dare to stop, sinking down on the ground, exhausted. At least she still had the food.
Scott was still standing up, distressed. What happened?
The radio They talked about the man I absorbed, describing his clothes. I think the clerk suspected something. I panicked.
You *think* the clerk suspected something? She was surprised at his biting tone of voice. Looking up at his pale face she realised that he had thought the hospital people had found them again. Since he was so cool-headed and collected, it was hard to remember that if she didn't tell him what was going on, he had no way of knowing.
I'm sorry. I guess I overreacted.
The tension in his shoulders eased a little. Don't think about it. Do you have the food?
Yes. Couldn't make the call, though.
Scott waved it away as unimportant. Right now he didn't know if he wanted to return. The X-men felt further away than the moon.
**********
Figures that it would start raining, Rogue said later that day. Her feet were beginning to ache, and her arms always were.
Well, when it's this hot it really doesn't matter, Scott said.
It won't be hot tonight, and the sun is almost setting.
In one way it didn't surprise him, since he felt like the day ought to have been over several hours ago. He had just stopped thinking evening would ever come. Alright, try to find some place we can spend the night.
I know a woman in Bedford I'd like to spend it with. Best lay on the east coast. Rogue was too tired to stop those words from getting out, but she quickly bit her lip.
Scott frowned. He knew that wasn't Rogue speaking, but it didn't quite sound like Logan either, and the Logan part of her was getting weaker anyway. The guy you absorbed?
Rogue blushed.
No, I'm sorry that I let you go through that. She was just a kid after all, what right did he have to ask this much of her? *Face the facts, Summers, you're losing it. Without her, you wouldn't have managed a single mile.*
It wasn't that bad, really. It wasn't, comparatively. The stranger might be a sleaze, but his presence in her head was a delight compared to those tiny little cold minds of sixteen dead mice. And you didn't *let* me go through with it, it was my idea. You're not responsible for everything, you know.
But you shouldn't have to be. He walked straight ahead, without revealing any emotions, and she couldn't very well start cuddling him senseless when she never had before. Everything she did she needed him there to double check, to use his experience and authority. So maybe he wasn't at his strongest, but he was everything that stopped her from going to pieces. She wished she could tell him that, but with his defences up like this, she simply didn't know the way. Fortunately, she found something else to talk about.
There's a clear-felled area to the right with some sort of worker's shack. It looks deserted. Hardly the driest place to spend the night, but better than nothing.
He followed her to the place. It had a pad lock, but the door was so rotten Scott could break it open. It was barely big enough for the two of them to lie down in, and Rogue lay down almost in Scott's lap, hoping she wouldn't accidentally touch his skin during the night. It was comfortable being this close, though, and warm.
Not much privacy, Scott said, smiling a little. His voice indicated he didn't object to the situation any more than she did.
Won't get as cold, though, she pointed out.
True. Considering I'm from Alaska it's surprising what a wimp I am when it comes to cold. His light tone told her he was more than exaggerating. Any real character flaw he would never readily admit.
When he mentioned Alaska she recalled her old plan of travelling there, and she recalled the things that had taken away the girl she had been back then. It wasn't a comfortable thought, so she shuddered a little, and he half-consciously put an arm around her. Once again, things had changed too fast for her to understand. After this terrible ordeal, in the despair she was in, Scott's arm around her felt like the most natural thing in the world. Not anything like what it might be like if Bobby ever held her like that, and not even like Logan's ever-comforting strength, but the sombre consolation of someone who knew what she was going through.
Carefully, she pulled away the bandages from her arms. She hadn't dared to look at them in daylight, but this grey night was more merciful, only hinted the lines and scars. Her gloved fingers followed the sore new skin she hated so much, and she cried to herself. She was just about to start hurting herself again when a firm hand took hers aside, holding it in a gentle grip. To return the caress, she pulled her fingers through his hair, holding his face between her hands. Any other time they would have shied those touches, afraid that they would be over-interpreted, seen as something other than what they were.
A simple statement from both of them. *Don't worry about perfection. You're here, that's enough. We're all we have.*
**********
Jean's cellphone rang as they were driving along the 684. It was the professor.
I got a phone call I'm almost certain was from Rogue. She hung up before saying something, but I called the number on the display. It seems they're staying close to the highway, but not quite on it. See if you can trace them. He gave her some directions, and she thanked him. Trace them — in other words, pull over now and then so Logan can take a sniff. Not a problem. Anything, as long as it gave results.
The search was slow and unsatisfying. It seemed like everyone from Britney Spears to the pope had been on the highway, just not the people they were looking for. Neither of them could give up. The idea to stop never came up, not even when it was well past midnight. They only changed driver and went on, stopping now and then to check it out.
Jean couldn't believe it when, by the time the skies had gotten lighter again, Logan finally said: They've been here.
She had heard, she just wanted to hear it again.
They've been here. Went that way. He didn't even have time to stop before she had returned to the car, driving it into the tiny road he pointed out. A few seconds of stopping to let him in was all she allowed herself.
She sensed it when they reached them, just as much as he did. That bond that had been missing in her mind was finally back, and she hardly dared to believe it. Her heart was pounding away as they approached the tiny shack and looked inside.
Scott and Rogue had both heard the car coming, but by the time they realised it was actually *stopping* too, it was too late to run. They rose and stood with their backs towards the wall. Rogue pulled off her gloves, preparing for a fight, but when she saw the faces of the people coming in, her arms fell down.
Logan didn't need to hear his name said twice, his enhanced senses had already told him everything he needed to know. Within a split second, he had his arms around Rogue.
Don't ever scare me like that again, you hear me, kiddo? he said, shaking her softly. He could feel every one of her sobs against his chest, and he knew he was crying too. It didn't matter. What have you been up to anyway, I thought One-eye was supposed to His glance fell at Scott and his voice dropped. Jesus Christ! he whispered.
Jean was frozen by the door, staring numbly at her lover, but Logan's reaction told her that she wasn't delusional. she asked, weakly.
His face turned in her direction, finally able to focus on something in the chaos. Oh Jean! Part of him wanted to throw himself at her. He had missed her more than anything ever, but then there was pride, and uncertainty, and ultimately he just stood there, not knowing what to do.
Her hand stroke his face. How he loved that hand! His own touched it, followed the arm and finally he held her like he wanted to.
What happened to you? She was crying. Who did this?
No, there was no way he could talk about it. A run-in with Odysseus, I guess.
Rogue said quietly. I don't know who they said they wanted to cure mutants
Logan looked down on her, shocked. He had assumed that she was alright because she seemed like it, but now she silently rolled up her sleeve and took the bandages aside to show him her arm. His reaction told her everything she needed to know. She was repulsive. Slowly, she took a few steps away from him, to the door. If she could, she would have run away, but there was nowhere to go, and she wanted to rest at last. The car. She could see it from where she was standing. She would go and sit down in the car, and Jean would drive her home.
Jean took Scott's hand. Come on, she said gently.
He hesitated. Going home would mean getting off the road and the run, to be back with Jean and the ones he loved. But it would also mean that every single one of the X-men and the students would know that he had been broken. That it was possible to break him. He didn't object when Jean lead him inside the car, but he wondered to himself what would happen with the two of them now. At least if the surgery could be reversed things could perhaps go back to normal, but
Don't think about it. Don't even let the possibility enter your mind. You're going back. The nightmare is over.
**********
Xavier reached out with his mind to his two wounded wards. Neither of them had really wanted to talk about what had happened, and it seemed wise to leave it at that, but he had to make sure that they weren't too bad off.
They had both fiercely refused medical care at first, but eventually Scott had agreed to let Jean take a couple of head scans, as long as she let it stay at that. I can't have an examination, he had explained, note short the way it always was when he had to admit lack of perfection. Even if I know it's you, I just can't. Rogue had refused altogether, claiming she was going to take a shower. When Xavier found that she had done as she said, his first impulse was to leave it at that. He was certainly not one to disturb a lady in her shower. Soon, however, he abandoned that thought as he heard what went through her mind. As fast as he could, he went to her room and knocked on the door.
Rogue? Will you please let me in?
There was no answer. He could hear the water streaming inside and he knew that wasn't all.
Rogue, let me in!
When he still got no response he silently asked for forgiveness and redirected the order into thought. Soon he heard footsteps inside and Rogue opened the door for him. It struck him that he ought to have ordered her to put something on, but right now, that was hardly their primary concern. He hurried to enter her room and close the door behind him.
You shouldn't have done it, she said, tears streaming down her face. I got the right to some privacy.
I'm sorry.
She turned back for the bathroom, but he didn't try to stop her. All she wanted was something to cover up her body. She wouldn't return to her previous action. When she had come back, he just watched her silently for a short while, waiting for her to start talking.
I didn't try to kill myself. The statement was flat.
I know. If you did, you would have cut on the inside. He watched her arms with the half-healed scars and new bleeding cuts. They weren't even all that deep, but the flow of blood was more than enough to stain the towel she was wearing.
I just The shower didn't help. I thought I'd get clean, but I didn't. She started to claw at her arms. I just want to get rid of it all.
Rogue, stop it. He couldn't stand the sight of her hurting herself, and didn't know what to do about it. Telepathy and psychology isn't quite the same thing.
It hadn't been an order, but she stopped just the same, resting her bleeding arms in her lap.
I think you should let Jean take a look at you.
Her voice was sharp.
It's only going to scar worse if you don't.
She cradled up to a ball, moaning quietly, and he tried to keep her calm, keep himself calm, as he continued:
What if Logan was with you? Could you go through with it then?
She shook her head, rocking back and forward. Don't want see me like this she mumbled.
Xavier agreed, still keeping his voice down. Scott, then? Would that be better?
The rocking stopped. He hates it too.
Hates what?
The doctors. Latex. That smell.
Do you want him there? Do you think you could do it if he was there?
A faint reply, almost inaudible.
**********
Jean moved away from the computer, but the image from the screen stayed in her mind. She turned to face Scott, wishing he'd let her examine him, sew up his hand, do *anything* for him. But the only thing he let her do was bring him bad news.
They have placed some sort of crystal in your brain. I can't quite figure out how it's made, but it seems part of it is the usual ruby quartz and part is some electric device. She rubbed her forehead. After what you said, I don't think they intended to damage the optic nerve, but they did, and it can't heal as long as that thing's in there.
He didn't like that tone in her voice, and tried to sort out the emotions that she sent him. Can you take it away, then?
I'm not a neuro surgeon, she said quietly. If I went in, I'd only hurt you more. You need an expert.
Fine. A medical expert willing to perform an operation that would restore a mutant's powers. Not very many of those. It still wasn't enough for Jean to be so scared. There's more, isn't it?
There was, but the rest was so frightening even for her she didn't know how she could possibly tell him. Even if it is removed She could barely get the words through, and studdered on the next sentence. there are lots of scars It might not be Oh, God, she couldn't say it.
She didn't have to. Her thoughts were so clear they stunned Scott. If she hadn't been a telepath, there could have been a possibility for him to misinterpret what she tried to say through those broken sentences. Now there wasn't. He could sense her fear and grief, and recognized it as the thought he had tried to fight away for the last few days, the possibility he had denied because he couldn't stand it. Faced with the horrible truth he could no longer dodge into that lie, but he couldn't cope with it either, couldn't deal with the emotions — not hers, not his own. The shock was so deep, so hard and painful, he felt like he was drowning, and his entire system fought it, tried to resist it. Summoning all his strength he forced it away, replaced it with high barriers that locked out every emotion, every thought, and left nothing but indifference. His mind went cold, his body numb, and his voice was amazingly calm when he finished her sentence: It might not be possible for it to heal. I could be blind for life.
If he had cried, gasped for breath, denied it, then maybe it would have been possible for Jean not to lose it, but this flatness in his voice just made all strings break, and tears streamed unchecked down her face.
**********
The door opened and they both jumped. Jean turned and faced Rogue, who was standing in the doorway with the professor not far behind. Her appearance was the normal one for a girl who had just stepped out of the shower. The shower of .
Jean took in the wet hair, the bloodstained towel, the bleeding arms, and nearly lost her breath. This was really too much for one day. Rogue, what on earth
She had a little accident. Xavier said, trying not to make too much of it. There were too many emotions around already, including his own. Before he had even opened the door, he had known Jean's discoveries, and he grieved for Scott. Reaching out for the young man's mind he found nothing but a big wall of forced emptiness. Walls like that weren't news for him. He had sensed them before, in other people — and once in himself. He might be able to help Scott through this, but not now. This wasn't his battle, and right now it would be better for him to leave and let the others handle their feelings without having to think about his.
Jean asked when the professor left without further explanation. What kind of accident? Her voice rose to a high pitch.
Rogue? What's wrong? Scott was worried. That was just so ironically like him, Jean thought, to allow himself to feel for Rogue but not for himself.
I'm okay. Really, I am. Rogue noticed Jean's distressed face and Scott's tension, and even though she had no mental bonds with either of them, it didn't take a genius to figure out that something was seriously wrong. She started backing. Maybe I shouldn't have come
Don't you walk out that door! Jean's doctor instincts took over. Come here, sit down. She put on a pair of gloves and Rogue moaned a little at the sound of latex snapping. It didn't help that the gloved hands belonged to Jean, it still made her tense and scared.
He took a few steps in the direction of her voice. What is it? he asked, concerned, wondering why she called for him and why she was even there.
Just be here.
Although it didn't make anything clearer, it calmed him a little. The plea was no different from what she had wanted from him the past few days, which meant it was the hospital-like situation as such, more than any injury, that worried her. I'm here.
His voice was soothing, even though he still didn't quite know what was going on. Rogue tried to inform him without worrying him: I cut myself a little. No biggie. She wished she could hold his hand. It was childish, maybe, but being close to him made her safer. It didn't matter that he was hurt too; he was her comfort.
Jean had started cleaning the wounds, and wondered to herself what had caused them. They looked a little too even to be accidental, and her first thoughts went to Logan. But no, Logan would never do anything to hurt the girl. Rogue's own statement had probably been more true. Rogue? Did you do this yourself?
Rogue sobbed and nodded a little. Jean sighed. Oh, Rogue.
Do what to yourself? Scott asked, frowning. Rogue was too embarrassed to answer.
She cut her arms, Jean replied calmly, giving Rogue a shot as she prepared to stitch up the wounds. Looking down at the girl's arms, she couldn't really blame her. They looked awful. What had those people done to her? She stopped herself from taking a look telepathically, because she didn't really think she could stand knowing. Rogue was going through a lot right now, but Jean didn't feel like the one to deal with it. Not the way things were with Scott.
You didn't. The concern in Scott's voice almost made Jean snap. How could he just pretend that nothing was wrong? She had always known he was an expert at hiding his emotions, but like this?
Even Rogue realised how completely wrong this conversation was. She tried not to think about Jean's hands sewing up her arms. Scott, are you okay? Stupid question. Stupid, stupid question.
Of course I am. Don't you worry.
Jean gave a half-choked sound and turned away. Rogue didn't know whether to cry for Scott or be terribly angry. Why shouldn't she worry, when he worried about her? He had done the same thing when they were on the run, seemingly getting stronger and calmer whenever he really hurt. It had never quite succeeded, though, the strain always shone through, because she knew it was there. Now all that was left was that fasade of normality, that unnatural calm. Unnatural, because there was no way he could be fine. That only left one possible conclusion. Rogue looked up at Jean to get her suspicions confirmed, but although Jean turned back to her, she refused to face her questioning glance and only went back to work. Rogue licked her lips before asking: What did the scans show?
Jean's voice was low and sorrowful. There's been some damage maybe too much. Her hand trembled a little and she concentrated on making it steady so she wouldn't hurt Rogue. What she wanted to do right now was throw herself on her bed and weep for days, but she had to keep her mind on her work.
This was her loss, too. It was a horrible, selfish thought, but she couldn't help it, because it was true. Scott's loss was hers, and her tears was for herself as well as for him.
Rogue's eyes filled with tears, and she couldn't quite keep her voice steady. Oh, Scott, I'm so sorry. After these days they had spent together, she knew there wasn't anything else that frightened him more.
We don't know anything for certain yet, Scott said reassuringly. You have no reason to worry.
No reason?! Forget the pity, now she was furious. She jumped down from the bed and didn't care that the latest stitch broke. I have *every* reason to worry! I would never have made it back here alive and sane if you hadn't been there for me! Maybe you don't care for yourself, but I do, I have a *right* to, and I worry about you, Scott!
His face was as hard to read as ever and it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. Both the girls watched with suspense, and for a moment it seemed like he would flame her right back, but then he turned for the door. You seem very upset, he said, finding his way. Maybe I'd better leave.
No! Don't you — but the door had already shut behind him. Rogue sank back to where she was seated and yelled a four-letter word after him. Then it occurred to her that tactless was only the mildest of the words you could use about her behaviour, and she gave Jean a worried glance. Jean had sat down and cried wildly, but it wasn't the tears that made her body shake, it was the laughter between them.
Rogue's voice was uncertain.
Oh, Rogue, Jean said, sniffling and giggling at the same time. I don't know whose personality it was you let forward there, but it was a truly refreshening one.
Rogue stared at her, and in the midst of all anxiety and tension her mouth actually started to twitch a little. Actually, I think it was my own.
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