Prologue 10:

            Rogue sat in numb shock as the X-Jet continued away from Alkalai Lake.  Everything was wrong, nothing made sense.  She had not felt so lost since she was first leaving her family's home, when she knew no one and had nothing.  Suddenly, her world was shattered again.

            From where she sat, Rogue could see Cyclops sitting in the co-pilot's seat of the jet.  He was calm, composed and completely focused on getting them home.  No Scott…Cyclops.

            Scott had fallen to the ground and wept in the moments after Jean died.  Moments that lasted unbearable ages for the other X-Men, until Scott finally stood up.  By the time, he made it to the controls next to Storm, all his tears had stopped, and Cyclops forced the pain away.  He had the rest of his life to weep.  Right now, he needed to get the Professor to Washington, DC. 

            Cyclops was their captain, second in command only to Charles Xavier, and the immediate fate of their kind took precedence over his emotions.

            Rogue glanced to the right with an effort, looking over at Logan who was standing solidly by the Professor's chair.  His fists were clenched, like he were preparing to attack someone, maybe to take revenge for the loss of Jean Grey, but there was no one left alive to blame for her death.

            She remembered what his mind was like, from when she had touched him before, and she could understand what he must be feeling.  Rage, she knew, and injustice…and defeat.  Logan was a soldier, and before finding Rogue that fateful day in the Canadian wilderness, his battles had always been his own.  Now, he had known friends, allies, compatriots…and he had not been prepared for the loss of one of them.

            After so many decades of fighting, he would finally have to face the real pain of war.  He would have to remember how to mourn.

            A strong grip formed around her hand, and Rogue looked back at Bobby Drake.  His eyes were pained, but confident.  He had also suffered loss, but he did not look defeated.  First, his family, then his friend to Magneto, now a teacher whom he admired and respected, all lost in less than a day.  Yet, he remained so sure, so certain of what needed to be done next.  He looked ready to stand as one of the X-Men.

            Rogue smiled at him, though she was crying.

            Shouldn't someone who makes ice be colder inside? she thought.

            But there was no coldness in his face, no doubt.  Even as they lay in pain during the attacks, Bobby had automatically reached for her, taken her hand, as if her suffering were more painful than his own.

            Rogue wondered if her eyes looked as worn and tired as Bobby's now did.  She wondered if he felt as aged as she did right now.

            Shit… she thought, I think we just grew up.  We were children this morning, hesitantly kissing after escaping to Bobby's house.  Now, we're different.  The kids are looking at us like they look at Storm or Cyclops, like we have all the answers.  Oh, God, I don't have the answers…

            Rogue squeezed Bobby's hand in return and she saw him smile.  It was not a child's expression.  It was not innocent anymore.

            Rogue leaned her head back and closed her eyes, listening to all the memories in her mind.  They were not her own, but those of people she had touched. 

            A violent experiment from Logan…

            Playing video games with Ronny from Bobby…

            A little boy running from the Nazis from Magneto…

            She shivered.  She had hated the constant presence of others in her mind.

            She only wished she had touched Jean once.  So she could have held onto some of her memories.  Then maybe Jean would not now be totally lost…

            "Holy Mary…Mother of God…"

            Rogue listened to the new mutant pray from the back of the jet.

            "…Pray for us sinners…"

            Yes, Rogue thought, Pray for us, Mary.  Because I'm not sure there are many other's who will.