By nightfall, the rain had ceased. Camp was swiftly set up in a thick mid- west forest that was a different kind then Scott was used to. The south was lush and overgrown, reeking with humidity. The bark was mossy to the touch and came out in fist sized clumps if you pulled at it. The birds were gaudy and loud and brightly colored. There was a languidness to the water, a languidness to the wildlife. If you were more inclined to the tundra, where Scott had lived for most of his life, everything was the greyed-out color of ice, and anything that moved was wily and swift. This was unlike either of them.

The trees were none so tall as the tropical forest's, or as scrubby and deep rooted as the tundra's. They were somewhat stately and straight, with needle-like leaves the length of a man's arm that drooped and swayed in the mild wind. The bird calls were short and hurried and the harsh cry of the raven was predominant. That sole similarity to the tundra didn't exactly call up nostalgic and pleasant images.

Jean suddenly declared that she had grown up in a place like this, pleased to show off her knowledge of the trees and the birds, describing any bit of vegetation in depth for "Scott's benefit". He nodded vaguely from time to time, smiling when he could, and occasionally scratching the back of his neck. Jean, sometimes perceptive, finally petered off into silence.

They camped under the trees. Scott felt along the ground for something other than hard hillock to lay on and finally curled up in a slight indentation in the grass.

It was a warm night, if not too dry. Scott tried to ease into sleep of some sort, but his stomach was not only grumbling, but aching--he hadn't had enough to eat for a long time. He supposed he was embarressingly skinny now . . . his elbows jutted uncomfortably into the dirt--knolls of bone that served no purpose but to bump against things. He didn't have the courage to do a further touch inventory on his limbs--he didn't want to know if they were as twiggish as he feared and there was nothing he could do about them. Not until the emperor was inclined to feed them better and provide a makeshift gym . . . or weapons heavier than sticks.

"Scott?" Scott hitched a shoulder uneasily. The voice was Rogue's and there was something new and broken in her tone which worried him, not only for her sake. He wasn't quite that altruistic.

"Yeah?"

"Can you get up?"

Let's just not ask me if I want to get up, shall we? "I guess." He shoved himself into a sitting position and slowly, cautiously, into a standing one. His stomach and several unrelated muscles roared in protest. "What is it?"

"I want to show you something."

"Show me . . . " but she had already grabbed his forearm and was dragging him . . . . well, somewhere. After a moment, Scott was stumbling over rises in bare dirt and exposed roots and the air had a strong leafy scent to it, which meant . . .

"Rogue, I really don't think we should be wandering in the forest."

"Just a minute more--we're not going far."

In fact, almost as soon as "far" was finished and writhing uncomfortably in Scott's mind, she stopped and pressed a hand into his back to steady him.

It was very quiet. The only noise was Rogue's breathing.

"I'm not seeing anything," Scott muttered, his former uneasiness mounting to a peak.

"I promise this isn't a game," Rogue blurted, although Scott had never said it was. "I can . . . I can help you see. If only for a moment."

"How?" Scott had a sudden urge to run, but, of course, didn't.

"I . . . I have the power to take that which uses your eyes away. Your . . . your ability, it uses your eyes, doesn't it? Makes you blind?"

"I . . . I don't know."

"It does, doesn't it. Jean told you that I was an energy vampire. But I'm not. Not like that. I just take a little unless I touch someone for too long. I think if I touched you a little, I could take some of your power away for a bit--so you could see. Don't you want to see? Even for a moment?"

"Could you take it away permenantly?" It was out before Scott could moderate it and his tone was far too pleading. He cursed himself.

"Not . . . without killing you, Scott. But for a moment."

A moment. Did he have a moment? The temptation was incredible to accept Rogue's offer--for even that moment. To see the sky wreathed with clouds and darkness and scattered with stars, to see it seep through the shuddering black-green canopies of the trees. Or to look at the ground-- even if it was only packed dirt with a few weak straggles of grass. Even to look at Rogue . . . and Jean of the confusing green eyes. Even Kurt . . . even if only out of a sick curiousity. If nothing else, he needed the color. Something besides the red vagueness and the flat grey . . . the interminable dead black. And he was beginning to forget. He'd forgotten his tundra and its steel glittering greyness long ago and the dripping bright fold of the aurora borealis. He had forgotten many faces as well and those that he remembered were scattered outlines of hair and a sketch of expression. Increasingly, people were voices without substance--just impressions and flashes of color that was not color.

He wanted to see the sky and have it in his dreams fresh and deep for a few months after this.

But . . .

"Where does it go when you take it?"

"What?"

"My power."

"Into me," Rogue said, perfectly matter-of-fact.

"Oh." Scott swallowed, and his need for a colorful reality suddenly wasn't so important. "I don't think it's a good idea, Rogue."

"Why?" There was more abrupt and angry frustration in her voice than Scott thought his response entailed. "I won't touch you hard! I'm not some sort of monster . . ."

"I didn't say you were! You're not!" Scott cried, panicked by this change . . . this instability in Rogue, who he'd almost come to trust, if he could trust anyone (he was also a bit scared of being physically hurt at this point), "I just don't think it'll work."

"You want to see, I want to touch someone . . . without five layers of leather protecting them from me! We can both have it, for an instant anyway. I'll only brush you . . . it can't hurt to try, it can't!"

"What if you want to touch me again?" Scott took a step backwards when it seemed Rogue was at enough distance that he wouldn't run into her. "What if you want it again . . . keep wanting it again?"

"What if you want to see again?" she countered, and he felt her approaching.

"I won't. I don't . . . I don't want to." He stumbled twice backward, almost falling. "It'll hurt me to see. I don't want it."

"You're lying! Of couse you want it. You're human, how could you not?" A twig snapped sharply, too close. Her greyness was overwhelming.

"Please leave me alone, Rogue."

He felt wind and, knowing she was reaching for him, jerked away clumsily and ended up on the ground. "Please!" he shrieked, trying to get back up and terrified she'd grab him while he was completely helpless . . .

But she was done.

"All right, Scott. All right. I don't understand, but all right. I'd never do it if you . . . if you didn't want it. But I don't understand."

"I can't be dependant on you," he said, almost under his breath and half hoping she wouldn't hear.

But she did. "What do you mean, dependant?" Her tone was affronted.

"You can't be dependant on me," he said, a little louder.

"And why not?" She was shouting now, which made Scott want to curl up again, pathetic as it made him. "Why can't two people be dependant on each other? What's friendship then? Aren't we friends, Scott? Aren't you friends with anyone?"

"I am your friend, Rogue," now he sounded wheedling and he hated it. He fought to bring what little firmness he thought he had into his throat and out . . . "The fault is in me, not you. I . . . I'm not strong enough to risk this, Rogue."

"Then let us strengthen you. What are you afraid of?"

"I don't know. Perhaps it scares the weak to be in the presence of the strong, especially when they offer him things he can't repay. It's like being in debt to a god he met on the roadside."

"This isn't making any sense, Scott."

"I know, I know." The back of his head lolled against something hard, probably a rock. "I don't know how to explain this. I think I feel too much like a burden already, maybe, and I'd like to be independant, like to learn how to be myself without my sight, without any cheating glimpses into what I was, you know? I can't be what I was any more . . . you really won't be doing me any favors by propping me up against your powers and showing me the light I once had. It'll hurt too much when the light is gone again . . . and it will go and I'll be worse off than before, I think-- the dreams won't be worth it. No fantasy is . . . is worth it. And what about you? Can you really bear to touch me?"

"What does it matter what I can bear? I won't have time to hurt--you won't have time to hurt. Scott . . . we're going to die."

"What if we don't?" he pressed stubbornly. "Seize the day is all very well, but not at the expense of all the other days, before and to come. I'm not going to say I'm going to die and let everything I've worked at for . . . for a long time go to pot. I need . . . I need the control . . ."

"We're in the front line, Scott. How can control be an issue? Living is not even a possibility, you idiot! Have your sight--let yourself need us! You . . . you'd think your blindness was some sort of banner or shield or something. You never ask for help, you flinch if we do help you, you walk as if alone and we keep trying to pull you out of your isolation, but you dig in your heels as if your loneliness was so much more preferable than . . . than us! We want you to be happy, Scott, and you throw it back in our faces with your . . . your control, your . . . plans. What plans, Scott? What else have you go to live for?"

"I . . . "

"Let go, Scott!"

"I can't." He sighed deep in his throat and covered his forehead with a limp hand. The old nameless fear giggled in his breast. His eyes hurt. And he couldn't tell her. "I just . . . can't. I'm sorry."

Rogue grunted hoarsely and a boot scuffed against the dirt, which made him wonder . . .

"Are the others here, too?"

She didn't answer.

He exhaled and the fear subsided. "Can we go back now, Rogue?"

She pulled a little too roughly on his arm (her gloves were on and taut), until his legs finally heaved up under him.

Without another word, they walked back to the camp.