Chapter 3 - Disclaimers in Part 1

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"Anything?" Her voice was almost plaintive.

"Not really, Rogue," I answered tiredly. It had been 2 meals and one long nap since Rogue had started her one-woman mission against chilly Juggernaut feet and, so far, there had been no joy. "The only thing that even works for a while is when you rub 'em… and that doesn't last long."

"C'mon Juggy! There's gotta be something." She was truly exasperated and was rubbing the top of my left foot roughly. It's a damn good thing I'm invulnerable or she would have taken the skin off by now. "It just doesn't make any sense that nothing's working!"

"Maybe it's part of my mutation."

"Bullshit!"

"Seriously! Maybe I'm really Ice-foot-boy or something." I chuckled. "It's my strongest, most impressive power, mysteriously latent at the onset of puberty, but somehow triggered by close proximity to Weapon X assholes!"

She snorted. "If you have any overwhelmingly strong, secret mutant power it's your ability to pass noxious wind while sleeping."

My jaw dropped. "I do NOT!"

"Why else do you think I sleep with my head under the blanket?"

God, this girl was evil! "I can think of way too many reasons why you'd want to do that, Rogue-ness."

"Be nice," she growled, pinching a pinky resentfully. "Have you tried an electric blanket? Scalding footbath? Hot water bottle?"

I let out a patient sigh. "Rogue. First time I complained that my feet were cold those science sadists took a blowtorch to 'em."

She flinched. "Jesus." Her thinly gloved fingers rubbed harder, faster. "And you really didn't feel a thing?" She was looking at me. Hard.

"No." I had to look away, anywhere but at her. My entire being was suddenly flooded with guilt, rage… impotence. I'd been right down the hall the last time they'd broken her legs; I'd heard her every scream, every whimper, every single defiant curse. I'd had to put up with Sabretooth's bitching that he had to get touched by her again, after she'd been left to 'think on her mistakes' for a few hours. They couldn't hurt me like that; the only thing they had to hold me was the threat of blowing up my head. It made me sick to realize how easily they'd shaped my will and how much she'd had to suffer before they even cracked hers.

"Hey." I felt her small hand on my arm. "It's o.k."

My eyes burned, but I met her gaze. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

Her smile was small, the half-hearted expression of the old and resigned. "We can't all be invulnerable. At least I can steal a healing factor sometimes, right?" She shifted uneasily, obviously uncomfortable, and changed the subject. "So, did you pick the name 'Juggernaut' or did the great self-important gurus upstairs saddle you with it the same way they forced 'Nightcrawler' on Kurt?"

I sniffed. "They gave me a list. I picked."

She wrinkled her nose. "A list!?"

"Yeah."

"What else was on it?"

"Stupid shit."

She raised an eyebrow. "Like. What?"

"Behemoth, Gigantor…" I could feel myself starting to blush. "Colossus."

Her other eyebrow joined the first. "No freaking way!"

"Yup." My ears were burning; I couldn't even begin to imagine how red I looked, hair and all.

She snorted. "At least you chose well. Juggernaut suits you, strangely enough," she said, poking me in my ribs playfully before moving her attention back to my abused feet. "What made you pick it?"

I shrugged. "All the other names would have made me sound either dumb or…" I hesitated, darting my eyes toward the cell I knew held the Russian.

Rogue's lips curved. "Pretentious?"

"I was gonna say pansy, but pretentious just about covers it."

"Be nice."

"I am being nice!" I wiggled my toes at her nose. "You're the one who said it first!"

"If you don't get those things out of my face, I'll bite them off!"

My lips pursed. "Tease!"

"Prick!" she muttered, but her lips were curving. Her face was slightly flushed and her fingers developed an eerie strength as she pushed my foot back to her lap. "Be a little more careful, Juggs."

I sighed. "Relax, Roguey." I nudged her ribcage with a big toe. "I'm just messing with you. Geez."

"I just don't like being teased."

She could dish it out well enough, but I wasn't about to push the subject. "Anyway, Juggernaut just sounded more… warlike. Kinda like an A-Bomb or something."

She just stared. "Don't you know what it really means?"

"Nope."

"Wait." She hopped up and knelt in front of her bunk, reaching under the mattress into her stockpile of quasi-smuggled books. I swear that girl's got a veritable mini-library under there; sometimes I wonder how she sleeps. She pulled out a ratty old dictionary. "Here we go!" She slid back into the space she'd commandeered at the end of my bunk, legs all askew, and pulled my feet back into her lap, resting the spine of the heavy volume on my toes as she rifled through the pages. "Got it!" Her eyes scanned the page quickly, then she snorted.

"What?"

"Oh great and powerful Juggs… you're a Hindu god!"

"Bullshit."

"Seriously! The Juggernaut is an aspect of the Hindu deity, Krishna!" She was laughing now, in her weird Rogueish way, holding most of it inside as if she was too scared to make any real noise. "Oooh, oohh!! Get this! Says here that people would sacrifice themselves to this god and shit!" Her chuckles slowed. "'Something, as a belief or institution, that elicits blind and destructive devotion, or to which people are ruthlessly sacrificed.' " She lifted her eyes to mine and recited the remainder of the passage, lips carefully forming the words, eyes round. "'An overwhelming and irresistible force or movement. Lord of the World.'"

"Damn."

"Yeah."

"I chose well."

"Doesn't it seem a little… oh, I don't know… pretentious?"

I smacked her with my pillow.

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Later that night, I was awakened by a barely hushed argument between the curvy weather chick and Mr. Newly-Blue next door. He was angry, and she was attempting to be comforting, but failing miserably. She was suffering from an overabundance of anger herself, it seemed. I wasn't particularly interested in eavesdropping on the misery of others, honestly, and staring at the wall wasn't going to help me get back to sleep.

So I rolled over. Almost instantly, my eyes met Rogue's. Her eyes were huge, haunted and tired in her small face, but they weren't defeated. She rolled away from me deliberately, drawing her thin blanket over her head like a shroud. One movement transforming the space between our bunks into a cold, wide gulf.

For a moment, I could only stare at the shapeless lump, slightly shocked and even a little hurt. I had been under the impression that progress had been made on both sides towards a mutual understanding, and here she was reverting to her 'Rogue the anti-social bitch' persona. But suddenly, it occurred to me that, even as I was watching her now, tracing the hills and valleys of her hidden body revealed by the cool green glow of our cell's nighttime illumination, she may have been watching me as I slept. This was both a strangely pleasant and frightening thought. Shit. Now I really wasn't going to get to sleep anytime soon.

Tearing my eyes away from her body, my gaze landed on the dictionary resting on the floor beside my boots. Rolling onto my stomach, I scooped it up, propped myself on my elbows, and flipped to the 'R's. The light wasn't great, but I could still make out the words. The entry was outlined heavily in black, easy to find.

rogue (rÇ g) n. 1. An unprincipled person; scoundrel. 2. A person who is playfully mischievous; scamp. 3. Archaic. A wandering beggar, vagrant. 4. A vicious and solitary animal… 5. An organism… that shows an undesirable variation from a standard.

My lips moved soundlessly as I read and re-read the entry. Single words or phrases stood out starkly: scoundrel, mischievous, wandering, solitary, undesirable. None of the words were nice; nothing in the passage could serve to uplift or empower. My eyes lingered on the final definition, undesirable variation, before I closed the book with a huff. Whether chosen or given, the name suited her, and it was sad.

I fell asleep curved on my side facing her, hugging the ragged book to my chest, ears ignoring the faint murmurs still coming from the neighboring cell. In those hazy moments of half-sleep I remember wondering which came first, the name or the girl.

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