Chapter 2
Part I
Nightcrawler lowered his sweatshirt hood to let the gate scan his retina, and pressed his hand to the palm pad. "Wagner, Kurt, positively identified. Identify guest."
"Jensen, Dana. Nickname is Dice. Unaffiliated mutant." Kurt's clipped German accent didn't trouble the machine for a moment; its fuzzy logic circuits were fully capable of handling far worse.
"Requesting approval from the Professor. Please wait, Nightcrawler. And welcome home."
Dice huddled against him, nervous. "It's all right, Fräulein. This is home. I hope you feel the same way soon." He gave her a grin. "The Professor made me promise that I would to stop teleporting inside the gates...I have to register and be a good boy like everyone else." That made her smile and then the gates swung open. Kurt offered the crook of his elbow and she took it gratefully.
"Please see Professor Xavier at your earliest convenience," the gate murmured. Kurt nodded.
"We will get you cleaned up first," he said to Dice. "A hot shower will do you a world of good, da?"
"Won't that make your Professor angry? Being kept waiting like that?"
Nightcrawler chuckled and tapped his cobalt temple with a clawed finger. "He knows everything that goes on up here. He will be perfectly contented for to wait. It's what he does best."
Part II
"Fuck!" Gambit cried out as a shred of metal tore into his arm. To his amazement, the wound sealed itself and vanished. He had been in the Danger Room for two hours, and his body was protesting the abuse after spending nearly two days in a coma. Sweat ran down his body in rivulets, drenching his close-fitted jeans and t-shirt. His trench coat lay on a peg outside the door, with his cards and staff. He was fighting the machines in the Danger Room hand to hand, and wasn't faring all that well. His rage and grief blinded him, and more often than not tears mingled with the sweat on his cheeks.
"You're gonna undo all the good work I did, Cajun." He turned as all the devices powered down. Logan leaned against the door with a sad, tired look on his face. "You're gonna keep healing the way I do for prolly a day or so more, since we replaced about half your blood with mine." Wolverine held out a bare arm; there was still a little bit of bruising around the insertion point for the needle. It had obviously taken a lot out of Logan, if the site was still bruised.
"How long I been down here?" Gambit asked, panting.
"Too long." Logan offered him a towel. Remy took it gratefully and dried his dripping flesh. "Get a shower, Rems. You reek of hospital and sweat. You'll feel better, I promise." Remy nodded obediently. Some of the rage had been sapped by combat, and it left only cold and sorrow in its place. He picked up his coat and ambled upstairs to his room, herded gently by his friend.
Part III
Dice was uncomfortable in the dormitories, so Nightcrawler took her to his quarters. "I will get some clean clothes and leave them outside the bathroom door," he said. "If you have need anything, just yell for me." And with that he closed the door to his small apartment and went to scrounge up some clothing for his rescue.
None of the female students were tall enough to loan out. Finally he encountered Storm and asked to borrow some of her clothing. She agreed, and Nightcrawler looked at her for a moment. "What is the matter, my friend?" he asked her.
"Hadn't you heard, Kurt?" She sighed sadly. "Rogue's dead."
His brows rose. "How? When?"
Ororo handed over a bundle of clothing. "Three days ago, we fought a battle and took heavy injuries. Rogue and Gambit were both buried under a fallen building...Hank was able to give him a transfusion from Logan, but Rogue's body wouldn't accept it. She was too weak even to absorb healing from him. She passed last night." Ororo's eyes were damp. "We're going to have a funeral for her tomorrow, if Remy's awake. I had hoped...I had hoped you would be back in time to do the obsequies."
Kurt took her hand. "Of course, of course," he murmured. He kissed her cheek. "Thank you for the clothes, Ororo. There is a young girl who will be very grateful for something clean to wear." He bowed his head and took his leave, though his heart was suddenly heavy with the news.
Dice came out of the shower wrapped in a big, fluffy towel. Leaning out of the bathroom door, she picked up some clothing from the floor and withdrew back into the steaming bathroom to dress. When she emerged, she felt quite refreshed. "Kurt?" she called, and he opened the front door to the small apartment.
"Better?" he asked. "I always find that clean clothes make me feel more human."
Dice looked at him with a smile. "Kurt, nothing could make you more human."
He chuckled softly. "And I would not want it to, my lady." Dice smiled shyly and he offered his arm once more. "We should go to the Professor now, and then we will get for you some lunch. Da? Sound gut?" She nodded.
As they walked down the corridors, she noticed something different. "What's happened, Kurt?" she asked quietly. "You look suddenly very sad."
He patted her hand. "Nothing for to be concerned with. The school...had a loss. While I was gone, one of our own was killed." Dice expressed her condolences, and Kurt felt suddenly much better. Later the Professor would explain that the girl was a broadcasting empath, capable of altering the moods of others slightly.
Part IV
Gambit sat at the dining room table. He appeared almost comatose; he had not spoken for ten minutes. Logan sat beside him, making sure he periodically took the effort to lift his fork to his mouth. The slim, graceful fingers had suddenly lost all their nimbleness, and he kept dropping food before it reached his mouth.
"Why did dis happen, mon ami? Punaise, Logan! She was just de commencer to open up. Rogue and Remy was happy for de first time in our lives. And dis got to go happen." He looked at the glass of water. "Si on buvait quelque chose?" //How about a drink?// Logan obliged, standing and unlocking the drawer at the bottom of a cabinet, and getting out a shot glass.
"Whiskey good?" he asked.
"Non, please. Be dere a gin in de cabinet? Remy could use a bit of a headache." Logan rummaged a bit and produced a half-full bottle of Beefeater. He poured out a shot and Remy tossed it back. "Another, homme."
"Now, don't go getting drunk on me," Logan said as Remy threw back his fifth.
"You'll just carry Remy up to his room and tuck him in like de concerned papa, mon ami. You did it last time dat Remy got too liquored up to walk." Remy took the bottle from Logan. "This idn't gwanna be enough, I be fearin'. What else is there besides whiskey?"
Logan shrugged. "About a third of a bottle of Leestown bourbon back there, I think." He couldn't believe he was helping his best friend get sloshed, but Logan knew that sometimes imbibing a little was a temporary fix. And temporary fixes are what human beings are about. Logan never stayed drunk for long; his hyped-up immune system flushed whatever he threw at it. But he knew the feeling.
Remy was all but passed out on the table when Nightcrawler came in with someone Logan had never seen--or smelled--before. Kurt wrinkled up his nose slightly.
"Well, I see Remy is awake...if not for very long." Logan nodded.
"If you want to get the kid some dinner, I can drag him upstairs and put him to bed."
Dice shook her head. "No, don't. I don't mind. Really."
Logan shrugged and pried the bottle of Balvenie from Remy's fingers. He wiped the top and took a swig. Kurt rolled his eyes and busied himself fetching Dice something to eat.
"I'm Logan. And my inebriated friend here is Remy. In his sober moments he's Cajun; right now he's just dead drunk." Dice shook his hand and he noticed she wore gloves. He looked at her a moment, curious.
"My name's Dana...friends call me Dice. Well, back when I still had friends," she amended, lamenting.
Kurt spoke up, sensing the discomfort between them. "Dice was expelled from school for knocking a boy unconscious. The Professor thinks she will be able to control her absorption if she works on her telepathic skills."
"If ya don't mind my askin', where'd you come from?"
Dice sighed. "I'm originally from Georgia, though six years in a White Plains private school got rid of my molasses drawl. I've been wandering the streets of the town for about a year and a half now, since Mom and Dad cut off my funds."
Logan nodded. "Well, we're glad to have you here." He looked at Remy, who was nodding, though not necessarily in agreement. "It's a bit of a bad time for us, ya see, or we'd be a better welcoming committee."
Kurt set a plate in front of her. "Thanks so much, Kurt," she said shyly. He nodded.
Remy looked up finally, squinting. "Tu es la depuis quand? Je ne comprends pas! Logan, Remy be too drunk, homme. He be seeing tings dat just ain't dere." He looked at the Scotch in Logan's hand. "Don't drink dat, frere. Is poison ou quelque chose."
"Did you understand a half of that, Logan?" Kurt asked.
Logan was looking at Remy and Dice very oddly. "He wants to know how long she's been here...says he doesn't understand. Remy thinks he's too drunk and seeing things."
Remy reached out a plaintive hand to Dice. "Come back to Remy, amour. He do anything."
Dice was distinctly uncomfortable. "What?"
Kurt and Logan looked at their sobbing, drunken comrade. "Rogue!" Remy sobbed, burying his head in his hands.
"He's so drunk he thinks Dice is Rogue," Kurt said.
Logan looked at her. "Well, she's got that red-brown hair...and them green eyes. I can kinda see it."
Remy was practically blubbering. "Tu ripped Remy's heart out, Rogue! Mais Remy came back...and den you leave again..."
Logan felt bad for his friend. "I shouldn't let him embarrass himself like this," he said, standing. "I'm going to take him to bed. Nice to meet you, Dice." She nodded and Logan scooped up Remy like a sleepy child, cradling him close so he wouldn't risk dropping the lolling Cajun. "Come on, Rems. Walkies and nappies."
Kurt sighed. Dice looked at him. "It hurts to look at him, Kurt," she whispered. For the first time he noticed she was trembling. "He's in so much pain..."
"Remy is a functioning empath, Dice," Kurt said softly, touching her hand. "When he's sober he'll have shielding up. You'll be protected from his grief." He looked after the other mutants, long gone down the hallway. "But for tonight I think he needed to dull his senses."
Part I
Nightcrawler lowered his sweatshirt hood to let the gate scan his retina, and pressed his hand to the palm pad. "Wagner, Kurt, positively identified. Identify guest."
"Jensen, Dana. Nickname is Dice. Unaffiliated mutant." Kurt's clipped German accent didn't trouble the machine for a moment; its fuzzy logic circuits were fully capable of handling far worse.
"Requesting approval from the Professor. Please wait, Nightcrawler. And welcome home."
Dice huddled against him, nervous. "It's all right, Fräulein. This is home. I hope you feel the same way soon." He gave her a grin. "The Professor made me promise that I would to stop teleporting inside the gates...I have to register and be a good boy like everyone else." That made her smile and then the gates swung open. Kurt offered the crook of his elbow and she took it gratefully.
"Please see Professor Xavier at your earliest convenience," the gate murmured. Kurt nodded.
"We will get you cleaned up first," he said to Dice. "A hot shower will do you a world of good, da?"
"Won't that make your Professor angry? Being kept waiting like that?"
Nightcrawler chuckled and tapped his cobalt temple with a clawed finger. "He knows everything that goes on up here. He will be perfectly contented for to wait. It's what he does best."
Part II
"Fuck!" Gambit cried out as a shred of metal tore into his arm. To his amazement, the wound sealed itself and vanished. He had been in the Danger Room for two hours, and his body was protesting the abuse after spending nearly two days in a coma. Sweat ran down his body in rivulets, drenching his close-fitted jeans and t-shirt. His trench coat lay on a peg outside the door, with his cards and staff. He was fighting the machines in the Danger Room hand to hand, and wasn't faring all that well. His rage and grief blinded him, and more often than not tears mingled with the sweat on his cheeks.
"You're gonna undo all the good work I did, Cajun." He turned as all the devices powered down. Logan leaned against the door with a sad, tired look on his face. "You're gonna keep healing the way I do for prolly a day or so more, since we replaced about half your blood with mine." Wolverine held out a bare arm; there was still a little bit of bruising around the insertion point for the needle. It had obviously taken a lot out of Logan, if the site was still bruised.
"How long I been down here?" Gambit asked, panting.
"Too long." Logan offered him a towel. Remy took it gratefully and dried his dripping flesh. "Get a shower, Rems. You reek of hospital and sweat. You'll feel better, I promise." Remy nodded obediently. Some of the rage had been sapped by combat, and it left only cold and sorrow in its place. He picked up his coat and ambled upstairs to his room, herded gently by his friend.
Part III
Dice was uncomfortable in the dormitories, so Nightcrawler took her to his quarters. "I will get some clean clothes and leave them outside the bathroom door," he said. "If you have need anything, just yell for me." And with that he closed the door to his small apartment and went to scrounge up some clothing for his rescue.
None of the female students were tall enough to loan out. Finally he encountered Storm and asked to borrow some of her clothing. She agreed, and Nightcrawler looked at her for a moment. "What is the matter, my friend?" he asked her.
"Hadn't you heard, Kurt?" She sighed sadly. "Rogue's dead."
His brows rose. "How? When?"
Ororo handed over a bundle of clothing. "Three days ago, we fought a battle and took heavy injuries. Rogue and Gambit were both buried under a fallen building...Hank was able to give him a transfusion from Logan, but Rogue's body wouldn't accept it. She was too weak even to absorb healing from him. She passed last night." Ororo's eyes were damp. "We're going to have a funeral for her tomorrow, if Remy's awake. I had hoped...I had hoped you would be back in time to do the obsequies."
Kurt took her hand. "Of course, of course," he murmured. He kissed her cheek. "Thank you for the clothes, Ororo. There is a young girl who will be very grateful for something clean to wear." He bowed his head and took his leave, though his heart was suddenly heavy with the news.
Dice came out of the shower wrapped in a big, fluffy towel. Leaning out of the bathroom door, she picked up some clothing from the floor and withdrew back into the steaming bathroom to dress. When she emerged, she felt quite refreshed. "Kurt?" she called, and he opened the front door to the small apartment.
"Better?" he asked. "I always find that clean clothes make me feel more human."
Dice looked at him with a smile. "Kurt, nothing could make you more human."
He chuckled softly. "And I would not want it to, my lady." Dice smiled shyly and he offered his arm once more. "We should go to the Professor now, and then we will get for you some lunch. Da? Sound gut?" She nodded.
As they walked down the corridors, she noticed something different. "What's happened, Kurt?" she asked quietly. "You look suddenly very sad."
He patted her hand. "Nothing for to be concerned with. The school...had a loss. While I was gone, one of our own was killed." Dice expressed her condolences, and Kurt felt suddenly much better. Later the Professor would explain that the girl was a broadcasting empath, capable of altering the moods of others slightly.
Part IV
Gambit sat at the dining room table. He appeared almost comatose; he had not spoken for ten minutes. Logan sat beside him, making sure he periodically took the effort to lift his fork to his mouth. The slim, graceful fingers had suddenly lost all their nimbleness, and he kept dropping food before it reached his mouth.
"Why did dis happen, mon ami? Punaise, Logan! She was just de commencer to open up. Rogue and Remy was happy for de first time in our lives. And dis got to go happen." He looked at the glass of water. "Si on buvait quelque chose?" //How about a drink?// Logan obliged, standing and unlocking the drawer at the bottom of a cabinet, and getting out a shot glass.
"Whiskey good?" he asked.
"Non, please. Be dere a gin in de cabinet? Remy could use a bit of a headache." Logan rummaged a bit and produced a half-full bottle of Beefeater. He poured out a shot and Remy tossed it back. "Another, homme."
"Now, don't go getting drunk on me," Logan said as Remy threw back his fifth.
"You'll just carry Remy up to his room and tuck him in like de concerned papa, mon ami. You did it last time dat Remy got too liquored up to walk." Remy took the bottle from Logan. "This idn't gwanna be enough, I be fearin'. What else is there besides whiskey?"
Logan shrugged. "About a third of a bottle of Leestown bourbon back there, I think." He couldn't believe he was helping his best friend get sloshed, but Logan knew that sometimes imbibing a little was a temporary fix. And temporary fixes are what human beings are about. Logan never stayed drunk for long; his hyped-up immune system flushed whatever he threw at it. But he knew the feeling.
Remy was all but passed out on the table when Nightcrawler came in with someone Logan had never seen--or smelled--before. Kurt wrinkled up his nose slightly.
"Well, I see Remy is awake...if not for very long." Logan nodded.
"If you want to get the kid some dinner, I can drag him upstairs and put him to bed."
Dice shook her head. "No, don't. I don't mind. Really."
Logan shrugged and pried the bottle of Balvenie from Remy's fingers. He wiped the top and took a swig. Kurt rolled his eyes and busied himself fetching Dice something to eat.
"I'm Logan. And my inebriated friend here is Remy. In his sober moments he's Cajun; right now he's just dead drunk." Dice shook his hand and he noticed she wore gloves. He looked at her a moment, curious.
"My name's Dana...friends call me Dice. Well, back when I still had friends," she amended, lamenting.
Kurt spoke up, sensing the discomfort between them. "Dice was expelled from school for knocking a boy unconscious. The Professor thinks she will be able to control her absorption if she works on her telepathic skills."
"If ya don't mind my askin', where'd you come from?"
Dice sighed. "I'm originally from Georgia, though six years in a White Plains private school got rid of my molasses drawl. I've been wandering the streets of the town for about a year and a half now, since Mom and Dad cut off my funds."
Logan nodded. "Well, we're glad to have you here." He looked at Remy, who was nodding, though not necessarily in agreement. "It's a bit of a bad time for us, ya see, or we'd be a better welcoming committee."
Kurt set a plate in front of her. "Thanks so much, Kurt," she said shyly. He nodded.
Remy looked up finally, squinting. "Tu es la depuis quand? Je ne comprends pas! Logan, Remy be too drunk, homme. He be seeing tings dat just ain't dere." He looked at the Scotch in Logan's hand. "Don't drink dat, frere. Is poison ou quelque chose."
"Did you understand a half of that, Logan?" Kurt asked.
Logan was looking at Remy and Dice very oddly. "He wants to know how long she's been here...says he doesn't understand. Remy thinks he's too drunk and seeing things."
Remy reached out a plaintive hand to Dice. "Come back to Remy, amour. He do anything."
Dice was distinctly uncomfortable. "What?"
Kurt and Logan looked at their sobbing, drunken comrade. "Rogue!" Remy sobbed, burying his head in his hands.
"He's so drunk he thinks Dice is Rogue," Kurt said.
Logan looked at her. "Well, she's got that red-brown hair...and them green eyes. I can kinda see it."
Remy was practically blubbering. "Tu ripped Remy's heart out, Rogue! Mais Remy came back...and den you leave again..."
Logan felt bad for his friend. "I shouldn't let him embarrass himself like this," he said, standing. "I'm going to take him to bed. Nice to meet you, Dice." She nodded and Logan scooped up Remy like a sleepy child, cradling him close so he wouldn't risk dropping the lolling Cajun. "Come on, Rems. Walkies and nappies."
Kurt sighed. Dice looked at him. "It hurts to look at him, Kurt," she whispered. For the first time he noticed she was trembling. "He's in so much pain..."
"Remy is a functioning empath, Dice," Kurt said softly, touching her hand. "When he's sober he'll have shielding up. You'll be protected from his grief." He looked after the other mutants, long gone down the hallway. "But for tonight I think he needed to dull his senses."
