Disclaimer: same as the last ones
A/N: Wow, did this ever take longer than intended to get up. Long story made short - the Mother of All Writer's Blocks attacked without mercy and strapped me to the Electric Chair of Un-Creativeness. Then the great hero Brainwave rescued me and exploded my mind with the complete layout of this chapter and the rest of the story. Victory was ours! Special thanks to Shadowfax for loving this fic so much (you are the mighty Inspiration) and to Bonnie-Frootkake Productions-for that wide grin on her face when I told her I'd written in this one again (you are the illustrious Motivation). Enjoy!
The Memory Remains
Chapter 4
----
I'm your dream, make it real
I'm your eyes when you must steal
I'm your pain when you can't feel
Sad but true.
I'm your truth, telling lies
I'm your reason, alibis
I'm inside, open your eyes
I'm you
---Metallica "Sad But True"
----
The night was still young when Cyclops, Gambit and Morph returned to the mansion and quickly made their way to the War Room where Jean, Beast, Wolverine, Storm and Jubilee were already gathered. On the large screen was a thoughtful-looking President Kelly.
"Sorry we're late, Mr. President," Cyclops apologized as he took his seat.
"Quite alright, Mr. Summers," Kelly said. "Jean was just updating me on our situation." He turned back to her. "Please continue, Ms. Grey."
"Well, sir, even though Velocity is no longer in a coma, Dr. MacTaggart is certain that her premature awakening will have unpredictable side-affects. Sasha's mind is unstable and we aren't yet sure of her motives."
"Could she be a threat?"
"It is possible, but-"
"Try probable," Wolverine scoffed.
"-we really cannot be certain," Jean ignored him.
Kelly steepled his fingers and touched them to his lips as he thought. "In consideration of the recent calming of mutant riots, I am hesitant to again alarm the public with a resurfaced terrorist. I am also tentative to involve the CIA due to a recent rumour of an FOH informant stationed in the White House. The last thing we need is for the Friends of Humanity to catch wind of this." Kelly paused to collect his thoughts. "You X-Men have been key factors in stopping the riots, and you know Velocity much better than I do. Can you suggest a COA?"
"We have several ways to track her down," Jean replied. "Given the right circumstances she has proven to be reasonable. And if the situation does turn hostile, we know how to bring her down."
"Then it's settled," Kelly said. "I'm sending your team again as a Black Ops squadron. Mission parametres are left up to your judgement; you X-Men have complete control."
"We won't let you down, Mr. President," Cyclops assured him.
"I have no doubt about that," Kelly smiled. All of the X-Men left the room save for Jean. "Was there something else you wanted to discuss, Ms. Grey?"
"Something has been on my mind, President Kelly," Jean admitted. "In another two months, Henry Girich will be out of prison. I attended his trial, and the court never took into account his crimes against mutants or his illegal conspiring to construct the Sentinels after the Mutant Registration Program was discontinued. And it was the same at his trial for his attack on the Professor: all public mischief, vandalism and minor assault charges."
"I understand what you're saying, Jean, and it is disgraceful," said Kelly. "Corruption of the Department of Justice is hard to pinpoint, and no matter how hard I push for equal rights for humans and mutants, there are still those who fear and hate mutantkind. And so long as these mutant terrorists thirst to start a war, people don't have much reason to believe otherwise."
"I just wish I knew that everything we're fighting for isn't in vain."
* * *
Velocity stepped off the ferry and onto the Scottish mainland. It had taken them longer than expected to cross the rough waters and William had been grumbling about being far too late for dinner. The rain had stopped but the wind was still vicious. The weather and hunger had turned the Scot's mood sour and he'd sent Mickey off, saying he could dock and finish up by himself. Mickey had no complaints.
"Whar y'off to then?" Mickey caught up to Sasha, deciding it was too early to head home.
Sasha frowned; she had enough annoyances complicating her life without the boy following her around. "Russia," she conceded and felt a mental smirk - the Voice pleased she was doing as she was told.
Mickey seemed almost surprised by this answer, as if he were expecting another, but he quickly composed himself and casually lit another cigarette. "No' exac'ly a day trip," he mused. "Wha y'goin' thar far, if ye don' min' me askin'?"
Nosy beggar, isn't he?
Sasha rolled her eyes at both of them. "I'm going home." Mickey chuckled. "What's funny?"
"Eh, nuttin much. Jus' I r'member y'sayin' sommet 'bout bein' from N'York."
Velocity turned on him, her eyes burning with anger and impatience. "Let me give you some valuable advice: stay out of my business," she said slowly and plainly, then walked away.
Mickey smirked as he watched her go, calmly smoking his cigarette.
*
Two people watched with great interest as Velocity walked along the pier away from the ferry after confronting the young man. One was a tall man with strong, broad shoulders and a rock-hard physique. His face was one that was hard and cold and his mouth was set in a grim, tight-lipped scowl. His white hair was neatly chopped in a crew cut and framed with a red bandana. His right eye was a deep blue and conveyed years of hardship and experience; the left was that of a machine and the result of that hardship and experience. His left arm - another mechanical appendage - was held out in front of him as he watched the built-in computer read a positive ID on the Russian terrorist. In his right hand was an enormous futuristic energy weapon. He was one of those, all-business-no-nonsense types; no sense of humour whatsoever.
"It's her," he said in a gruff voice. "You were right about her location."
The other was a woman with short black hair cropped close to her head. At the back the ends of her hair flared out and her long bangs hung in her face around her blue eyes, the left of which was encircled by a black dot - a tattoo with origins unknown even to her. Her pale skin was eerily bright in the moonlight and her figure was slight with a delicate bone structure - a misleading exterior that did nothing to represent the lethal weapon that she was. She took her job seriously but without sacrificing her wit. Her sense of humour was dry - the Mulder to his Scully. One corner of her mouth raised into a smirk.
"Lucky guess," she replied.
The two were Cable and Domino: vigilante terrorist hunters and mutants. The former was a physically enhanced telekinetic and telepath; the latter, a probability-altering psionic with luck as her most trusted ally. Both had zero tolerance for terrorist threats or anything else with the possibility of starting the war between man and mutant. They were soldiers; they were mercenaries; they made their own rules.
"Four months she's kept a low profile," Cable watched Velocity. "We might have found her sooner if the X-Men hadn't gotten involved."
"Kelly's favourites," Domino mused. "Too bad he doesn't like mercs."
"We're out of his jurisdiction here," Cable replied. "We don't have to answer to him." Velocity was far enough away now that they could follow without arousing suspicion and he shouldered his weapon. "Move out."
Domino watched the woman's figure grow smaller and smaller as she moved farther away. She had a fleeting moment of doubt during which a tiny part of her urged she forget what she'd just seen and walk away. The thought caught her off guard and she halted.
"Something wrong?" Cable asked without turning around.
Domino snapped back into reality at the sound of his voice. "No," she said hurriedly. "I'm right behind you."
*
Sasha took in her surroundings: the town was a simple fishing village. The streets weren't even paved and the mud squished between her already dirty toes. The windows of the houses were dark, save for a few which were still illuminated by the glowing hearth within. She watched the flickering flames with great interest as her fingers instinctively wrapped themselves around the lighter she'd gotten from Mickey. For a moment, her thoughts of the fire-tossing Aussie chased away the cold that nipped at her barely-clothed body.
You're thinking of him? Sasha closed her eyes and didn't answer, irritated that the moment had been interrupted and she could feel the wind again. This is unexpected.
"Why? Am I not supposed to remember the one I love?" Sasha snapped.
I didn't know you cared about anyone but yourself, the other replied. But your memories are beginning to return. One thing I never expected to find in your head was honest love, that's for sure. There's hope for you yet, girlfriend.
Sasha narrowed her eyes. "That's enough. I have had it with your assessments of me and I think you had better get out of my mind and leave me the hell alone. I really do not want to go back to Russia and there are better hobbies you could take up rather than pissing me off."
Perhaps you weren't paying attention before: I'm not going anywhere. I've got a job to do and you're not getting out of this, there was anger in the Voice now. Besides, it isn't exactly as though I have a choice.
"What do you mean?"
There was an impression of severe irritation and then the voice spoke again. Is it really so important that you know my life story?
"I did not ask for your life story - only the part which concerns me."
Then you've really got to think back. This isn't going to be easy.
*
Rogue awakened suddenly from her slumber at the monastery window and gasped for breath. Her nightmares had unexpectedly and drastically changed from what she'd come to expect over the last four months. Instead of reliving Times Square and the destruction of Velocity's psyche, she had seen her sister very much awake. The pain and anguish of the previous dreams was gone, but Rogue had still felt looming trouble and another presence that she could not see.
Rogue wiped her forehead and found that she was sweating. She shut her eyes again and frowned; it had been so realistic that it was frightening. She was no psionic, but just as the old dreams were an impression of the past, Rogue somehow knew that this dream was an impression of the present. She's awake; Sasha's awake, Rogue could barely believe what she had unmistakably felt. But how is that possible? How can Ah know that? she wondered.
She stood and flew out the door and through the monastery to the enormous sanctuary where she took a seat in the front pew. She folded her hands in her lap and stared at the large wooden crucifix as if she expected it to somehow offer an explanation on her revelation. Rogue frowned, realizing that she couldn't receive an answer without asking a question. But the question wasn't whether Sasha really was awake - that Rogue knew to be true. The question was, "Wuht's mah role? Whah was Ah shown this? Wuht am Ah s'posed tah do 'bout this?"
She was concentrating so hard she did not notice the other in the room until a hand touched her shoulder. She jumped. "Nahtcrawler!" she sighed. "Ya scared me, Sugah. Next tahm warn a gal before ya go sneakin' up behind her."
"My apologies, Fraulien," Nightcrawler smiled. "But I zaw you come een, und you looked like you needed zomeone to talk to."
"Ya sure got mah numbah," Rogue nodded.
"Tell me, zister, what iz on your mind?"
"It's Sasha."
"Do you ztill punish yourself over our zister's fate?" he asked. "Before you can accept God's forgiveness, you must learn to forgive yourself."
"It ain't that, Kurt," Rogue shook her head. "She's awake. Ah cayn't explain how Ah know but Ah do. And Ah dunno wuht ta do."
Nightcrawler sat down beside her. "God works his power in mysterious ways. Perhaps zis is ze chance you longed for but never had to zpeak with her?"
Rogue turned to look at her blue-furred brother. "But wuht if she's pickin' up where she left off?"
The preacher folded his hands. "You zink she cannot change?"
"Ah dunno - that's whah Ah'm in here," she gestured around the room.
A moment of silence passed before Nightcrawler spoke again. "You came here zo that I might teach you to find peace, yes?" Rogue nodded. "I zink you will not find peace until you find the strength to forgive our zister. Ze book of God teaches us zat 'if your brother zins, rebuke him; und if he repents, forgive him. Und if he zins against you zeven times a day, und returns to you zeven times, zaying I repent, forgive him'."
"But she ain't nevah repented for wuht she's done," Rogue shook her head.
"Have you given her ze chance?"
Rogue remained silent and Nightcrawler picked up a worn Bible from the pew and flipped through it, then set it down open next to her then stood up. He slowly made his way to the many rows of flickering candles and lit one with a prayer on his lips for his beautiful Southern sister Rogue.
She picked up the book and found it opened to the book of Acts which told the story of Saul, the man who mercilessly persecuted and murdered innocent people for their beliefs until he saw the light of God. He was given a chance and repented for his sins, and became the apostle Paul to spread the light to amend the wrongs he committed.
"Kurt?" Rogue closed the book. Nightcrawler turned to look at her. "Ah'm goin' ta find Sasha. Ah gotta talk ta her b'fore she does somethin' stupid." She turned and flew out of the large oaken double doors and out of the monastery.
Kurt smiled after her. "Peace I leave with you; My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Do not let your heart be troubled, nor let it be fearful."
*
Sasha winced and clutched at the sides of her head as the memories began to flood her mind and she felt the pain of what they brought with them. She remembered the blast from Girich's machine in Times Square just as Rogue touched her, and then having to fight with Ms. Marvel over control of her body and mind. She remembered how Jean Grey told her to lose, and then Ms. Marvel's subsequent re-incarnation as she lay helpless and beaten in the deep recesses of her subconscious. They hurt. Dreadfully.
"How could you still be here?" she demanded, though her voice was full of anguish. "Rogue took you back; Jean told me it worked; you shouldn't be here!"
So they made a mistake. What are you gonna do: sue them?
"But how is it possible?"
Who cares? This just is. Chances are there's an explanation out there but that doesn't interest me. Besides, it's no worry for you. It's not like I can manifest over you again.
"How do you know that?"
Don't you think I would have done it by now? Sasha narrowed her eyes at the suggestion of her mental weakness. Get used to it; I used to make a living by taking out scum like you. I never considered that any of you might have a heart, so forgive me if my first attempt at being a conscience is a wee bit unorthodox.
"Being a what?"
You aren't exactly proving the weak-minded label wrong, sweetie. You, me - inseparable, get it? You're me and I'm you. I'm the Jimminy Cricket to your Pinocchio, so how 'bout we keep this real simple and you just 'let your conscience be your guide'?
"Spare me the quotable quotes," Sasha rolled her eyes. She began to walk again, eyes locked on the flickering glows of the fireplaces, mentally replaying the resurfaced memories as she repeatedly flicked the flint wheel on the tiny lighter. A bird cawed loudly overhead, snapping her back to reality. She began to shiver as she quickened her pace.
S'matter? Getting cold feet?
"I don't remember you being funny," Sasha shot back.
Yeah, well, what can I say? I've had a change of heart - or, more specifically a change of head. And God knows I've got to have a sense of humour in this depressing place.
"Thanks a lot," Sasha wrapped her arms tightly around her chest.
I'll give credit where it's due, though. At least you don't lock me away and forget me like your sister.
"Leave her out of this." She had stopped walking and her tone had gone deathly serious.
'Fraid that's not possible, darlin'. I can tell you right now she's more involved than I would like.
"How involved? How do you know this - and do not tell me it is not important."
Fine, it's important, but it's also complicated, and I'm not the most qualified to interpret the psycho-analytical mumbo-jumbo. Plus, I don't have the time to explain. The X-Men already have undoubtedly been alerted to your situation. We've got to go.
"Why do you want to avoid them? Wouldn't they make you proud to put away scum like me?"
Don't get smart, honey, I don't like to be proven wrong. No, no, you're my project and I'm not failing this course without a fight.
"And what do you get out of this?"
Quid-pro-quo, Ms. Romanov. Sasha snarled under her breath. Couldn't help myself. Deal is: I help you get back what you've lost and you help me find a way to get back into my body.
"No offense, but the though had crossed my mind," Sasha sneered.
Top on your list of things to do, I'm sure, Ms. Marvel was anything but without comebacks. Good to know we're on the same page.
"What makes you think it's even possible?" the speedstress was suddenly curious. And stalling.
Because I am here; obviously my entity can be transferred from vessel to vessel.
"Is that all I am to you?" Sasha asked with sarcastic hurt in her voice. No reply. "And just what, pray tell, do you presume I have lost? I have my memories back now."
Then obviously that isn't it. Enough talking; we've got to go. You'll need warm clothes. All these houses combined with your speed...
"Shouldn't be a problem," Velocity finished for her and was in and out of the houses without the occupants ever suspecting they'd had a visitor. She wasn't concerned with Cerebro's certain detection of the use of her mutant powers since she'd already concluded they were on the move. All that would reveal was that she'd moved from Muir Island to mainland Scotland.
Newly clothed, she was ready to continue her quest.
To Be Continued.