Rouge151 – Yep, it was Remy's voice. About the Carol / neighbour thingee…we're getting very close to figuring it out.

Epiphany

Xavier had not expected his team to be so wide-awake at his early morning meeting, but as usual they defied his previous notions. Wolverine stood with a simmering frown, Storm studied Charles with her utmost concentration, Nightcrawler was perched on a countertop with a cocked head and Iceman stood cross-armed with dark circles rimming his eyes. Xavier frowned at him; the young man was not sleeping well. Although he knew it was because of his concern for Rogue, he hesitated sending out an X-Men who was not at peak performance, particularly on a mission that baffled even Charles Xavier.

They all stared expectantly at him so he quietly began their meeting. "I know where Rogue is."

They gave a jump and one by one began to step in closer to him. Wolverine gripped the table's edge, his eyebrows creasing with anxiety. "Where?"

Charles shook his head. "It's not as simple as where, we're not dealing with-"

Wolverine cut him off abruptly. "Just tell me where," he demanded loudly.

Charles' stare bore through the feral mutant. "Ohio."

Bobby stood up straighter with his mouth set in a grim frown. "Ohio?" He repeated.

Xavier nodded.

"Do we know why?" Storm asked.

Xavier shook his head. "I do not know the exact motives, but I believe I know by whom." He paused, not for dramatic tension but in order to collect his thoughts. "There is a mutant that I have only heard rumours of. He comes and goes as he pleases but on very rare occasions he makes his presence known. This is one of them. His name is Sinister."

"Sinister," Bobby whispered. His face paled with fear; Rogue was being held by a mutant who willingly called himself Sinister.

"The mutant in the background," Wolverine added, remembering his and Charles session with Cerebro.

Xavier nodded. "He is the supposed leader of the group of mutants who call themselves 'The Marauders'. You've already had a run-in with them once."

"That was him," Bobby said quietly. The X-Men stared at him. He went on, oblivious to all those around him. "I saw him…when he took Rogue."

No one spoke as they removed their gazes from the young man, all except for Charles. He watched Bobby serenely and waited until the Iceman raised his head to lock eyes with the Professor.

"We never spoke about it Bobby. What happened that night?"

Bobby dropped his gaze and shrugged. Now Wolverine was staring at him intently along with Xavier.

"What did Sinister do to you?" Charles asked forcefully.

Bobby looked up quickly, panic dilating his pupils. His palms began to sweat and a slight tremble shook his limbs. "I don't know," he whispered. "He just…I don't know," he repeated.

"I saw you kid. You were covered in ice. I never seen you do that before." Logan stated firmly.

Bobby glanced quickly from Wolverine to the other occupants in the room. Nightcrawler was nodding seriously, Storm was studying him with interest, while the Professor kept his coaxing gaze fixed on his aversive subject. "I...he...I felt like I was going to...explode," he stammered out.

The Professor's eyes narrowed. "Explode?"

Bobby nodded. "I've never felt like that before. I mean, I've always thought that I could, I just never thought..." he trailed off.

Wolverine was shaking his head. "Yer making it sound like you wanted to be an icicle. He was killing you."

Bobby shook his head. "No. I could breath. I wasn't dying."

"I don't understand," said Storm.

Bobby frowned and shrugged his shoulders, frustrated. "I don't either."

"I think I do," Charles stated. All eyes turned back to him and waited for him to shine the light of understanding on them. "The mutant that affected you was not Sinister, it was Scrambler."

"Skinny kid," Wolverine pointed out.

Xavier cocked his head. "Yes, I suppose so. Scrambler's mutant abilities centre on manipulating other mutant's powers. In your case, I think he exposed something we had previously overlooked."

Bobby snorted. "What? Turning myself into a snowcone?"

"Yes." Charles answered simply. "Most mutants will never experience the full potential of their abilities. I think, Bobby, that Scrambler's affect on you may have triggered a new wave for you. I think you're advancing now."

Wolverine threw his hands into the air. "What's this got to do with Sinister and Rogue?"

A perplexed frown settled on Charles' face. "Because I don't think that we've seen the extent of Rogue's powers either."

"What do you mean, Professor Xavier?" Storm asked solemnly. "Why would Sinister wish to see the extent of Rogue's powers?"

"To exploit them, naturally."

Wolverine pushed the air down with his hands. "Hang on a minute. If Rogue used her powers to the fullest extent, wouldn't that just kill someone?"

The silence was palpable and seemed to answer Wolverine's own question. He shook his head and pivoted, breathing furiously through his nostrils.

"The question is," Charles began. "Who?"

Bobby sank into a chair beside the table and rested his chin on his knuckles. After thinking deeply for a minute, he raised his eyes and stared seriously into the Professor's face. "So when do we leave?"

***

Rogue would have continued to sleep had the voices been talking at normal volume. Had they been speaking with no regard for her peaceful slumber she probably would have done no more than open one bleary eye, glare at them for a moment and then grudgingly fall back asleep despite their rudeness. But it was because they were whispering that she awoke and could not fall back asleep. Her natural curiosity overcame the best of her; she strained to hear what they were discussing, and more specifically to hear if they were discussing her. She hated it when people spoke about her as though she wasn't even in the same room.

Her hearing focused on the hushed voices, straining to pick out familiar words and names. She found it exceedingly difficult. Perhaps if she caught them in her eyesight, if she could see their mouths moving, then she could eavesdrop. Her vision was uncooperative; she squinted and blinked several times before her lonely cell came slowly into focus. As hazy as her eyesight was, she immediately recognised that there was nobody else inside her cell besides her.

"Shhh. She's awake."

Now thoroughly annoyed, she pushed herself up and slumped against the wall. Still the whispering continued, only now at an even lower decibel. She shook her head and grumbled. She stood up and gasped at the coldness of the metal floor on her barefeet. She quickly padded over to the invisible energy field, being careful not to get too close. She glanced left and right, but suddenly noticed that the whispering had stopped.

"Well, y'all could at least turn up the heat!" She yelled.

"Rogue?"

"It's alright Gambit. They're just bein' rude bastards as usual."

There was a drawn silence. "Why do you say dat?"

Rogue snorted. "Well, they wake me up an' then leave me freezin' to death."

There was another long silence. "Who woke you up?"

"Them."

"Who?"

Rogue threw her hands into the air even though Gambit could not see the gesture. "Them! Whoever was whisperin'."

"But dere was no one whispering."

It was Rogue's turn to be silent. "Yes there was." She said quietly. "I heard 'em."

Gambit did not answer, and a part of Rogue was eternally thankful to him for that. She suddenly felt like a little girl. The coldness had crept along her body until it took shape as a constant shivering in her limbs. She sank onto her bed and curled into a fetal position, clutching the blanket as close to her trembling body as possible.

"Is she still awake?"

"Shhh!"

"Leave me alone," Rogue whimpered. "Jus' leave me alone."

***

Remy LeBeau shivered in spite of himself. Somehow being in Sinister's presence was enough to physically drop his body's core temperature. Sinister did not hesitate to notice and grinned widely in the young man's direction.

"Cold, are we? Shall I have Scalphunter kick up the heat a few notches?"

Remy shook his head resolutely.

Sinister grunted. "Good. We couldn't turn up the heat even if we wanted to." He took a sip of tea from a delicate teacup that looked severely out of place in his large blue hands. He replaced the teacup on a silver tray beside him and sank deeper into his leather armchair. "So. Tell me about your new friend."

"Leave her alone, Sinister."

Sinister's eyebrow arched dramatically. "Now, now. Let's remember who runs this show. I can leave whoever I want alone, but I choose not to in Rogue's case."

Remy's voice gained in volume. "What she ever done to you, Sinister? She's jus' a kid; she's innocent. Leave her alone."

Sinister cocked his head. "How touching," he said dryly. "You care for the young imp, don't you?" He smiled as Remy dropped his gaze to the ground. "Of course you do." He rose from his chair and towered over the young mutant with impressive height. "For you are both victims of circumstance. Unwilling participants in a horrible twist of fate. Ah, my naive little thief," he clasped his shoulder with so much strength that Remy winced. "I could take all your pain away. I could make you whole."

Remy's red eyes blared with hate up at Sinister. "I don' want whatever you sellin'. Jus' let us go."

"Fine." Sinister removed his hand and turned his back on Remy. LeBeau rubbed his bruised shoulder. "But tell me, Mr. LeBeau. Where is it you intend to go?"

Remy looked up with wide eyes. He had no answer.

Sinister glanced at him over his shoulder. "Home?" He laughed. "We both know there's no such thing for you now. You may as well accept your fate."

Remy dropped his gaze again and frowned. "What's dat?"

Sinister faced him, looking like a military commander with his shoulder blades squared and hands clasped behind him, his long black cape swirling at his feet. "My protege."

Remy shuddered, shaking his head back and forth but he could not find the words to counter Sinister's remark.

"Oh yes. Not now, of course. We'll have to reinitiate your training to suit my needs. Until then, get used to your cell and use this time to reflect. It will help in the long run." He gave Remy a mock sympathetic smile and waved him off.

Remy set his jaw rigidly and turned to follow Scalphunter out of the room, but not before Sinister took a final jab.

"Oh, and LeBeau,"

Remy stopped and gathered his will to face Sinister again. "What?"

Sinister stared at the floor solemnly. "Do try to help Rogue through her trials. I fear she's having a rather difficult time adjusting."

Remy roared and lunged for Sinister with outstretched glowing hands, but before he could leap he dropped to the ground in an unconscious heap. Scalphunter had fashioned a wicked looking club in the seconds it took for Remy to turn. He towered over the mutant's prone form, slapping the club in one hand and wishing that Gambit would rise so he could use it again.

"Good work Scalphunter." Sinister congratulated. He stepped in closer and studied his victim. "Perhaps your young friend will be of use to us yet. Take him away."

***

She was dreaming again. Lucid dreaming? Wasn't that what Ororo Munroe had called it, when you dreamt but at the same time recognised consciously that you were dreaming? Her conscious self nodded. Her dream self shrugged and continued down the sloping hallway. The door seemed to take forever to reach; no matter how close she came to it, it just kept getting further away. That was until she realised that it wasn't getting further, it was just a tiny door that no human could feasibly fit through. The door was eye level, and no bigger than the size of her thumb. She tried to turn the doorknob, but her big clumsy fingers couldn't grasp the tiny piece of hardware. Grunting with frustration, she flicked at it.

The door swung open and enveloped her in a sea of light. She shielded her eyes with her forearm and took a step forward. To her surprise, the minuscule door disappeared. She was standing in a large room, exceedingly large. Once her eyes became accustomed, she discovered the room was actually an aeroplane hanger. It looked deserted. In front of her was an impressive jet; large and lethal looking. It somewhat reminded her of the X-Men's own Blackbird. She was puzzled; what was she supposed to do again?

"She's in there."

Rogue spun around at the voice and frowned when she saw Mr. Sinister standing a few feet behind her. "What the hell are you doin' here? Ah don't recall wantin' you in ma dream."

But Mr. Sinister didn't even bother looking at her. "Rogue," he said softly. "Your fear has never been of me. I am not the fear you need to conquer."

Rogue looked doubtfully from Mr. Sinister to the spacey-looking jet and back to Mr. Sinister. "Yeah well, it ain't of jets either."

Mr. Sinister shook his head and sighed impatiently. "Not the jet, stupid. It's what's inside the jet."

Rogue turned back to the jet. "An' what's inside of it?"

Behind her, Mr. Sinister laughed. "That's not for me to divulge. I can only bring you so far, young Rogue. It's up to you to do the rest." There was a brief acrid smell of sulphur, and then like a bad cliché, Mr. Sinister disappeared in a puff of grey smoke.

"Yeah, 'cause you've been such a help so far," Rogue muttered under her breath. Collecting herself, she strode towards the plane, surprised that her soft-soled sneakers were making so much clunky noises across the pavement. She wondered ridiculously if someone was doing sound effects to match her dream. If that were the case, she would appreciate some background music, something dramatic to face her "fear". None came.

Stepping inside the jet was like stepping inside of a vacuum. The world became muffled, sterile. The jet looked like a luxury line for rich businessmen. It had several rows of seats, all two by two and clothed with a neutral navy blue. In fact, everything in the jet was a shade of blue. She continued up the aisle until she came to the cockpit, where the door was closed. She briefly considered knocking but shrugged off the idea and opened it cautiously instead. She knew right away that there was someone in the captain's chair.

True to Mr. Sinister's word, she was afraid, but she did not know why. She didn't want to know who was in the chair, but she was too scared to turn and run. She was an X-Man. She would face it; she had to. Her teammates' lives depended on it.

She stopped her train of thought abruptly. Why would the X-Men's lives depend on whoever was sitting in that seat? Had she missed something important along the way?

As if in answer, the X-Men were standing in front of the jet, all in uniform and staring blankly in her direction. Her conscious mind was now thoroughly confused.

"Hello?" She asked softly. No one stirred. "Please, ah have to save ma friends. Please talk to me." She pleaded gently.

The chair swivelled around. A young, attractive blonde woman faced her. She looked vaguely familiar...

"You can't save your friends, Rogue."

The voice that came from the woman didn't sound like Rogue expected it to. It sounded different, sort of displaced. "Yes ah can. Ah have to."

The woman smirked. "You can't save them Rogue. You aren't strong enough. They'll die."

Rogue was shaking her head vigorously. "No. Ah can save them."

The woman stood up. Rogue glanced at the white uniform she had on. Sort of skimpy for an airline pilot. "Really? You and your fantastic powers can save all of them? Even if I kill them right here and now?"

The words hit Rogue like a physical slap. She recoiled and stared at the woman in horror. "Why would you do that?"

The woman rolled her eyes. Rogue was sure she knew her from somewhere. "Who cares about my motivations, Rogue. The real question is, what are you going to do about it?"

Rogue glanced fearfully from the woman to her oblivious teammates, still staring blankly at the front of the jet. "What are you gonna do to them?"

The woman shrugged. "I could just push this little button." She lightly draped her finger on a big red button that red "MISSILE".

Rogue gasped. "Don't."

The woman cocked her head. "Or what?"

Rogue took half a step back. "Ah said don't."

The woman took a menacing step towards her. "I ask again, or what?"

Rogue stared at the X-Men, her friends, her family. They were all she had in the world anymore, if she lost them...She threw her hands over her ears to block out the sound of her own thoughts.

The woman turned back to the button. "See? You're too weak to even save your team." She began to press the button.

Rogue screamed and lunged for the woman. Surprised, she spun and tried to block Rogue, but she didn't have time to counteract as Rogue lay her bare hands on the woman's cheeks. The woman's eyes widened in terror, her mouth gasped feebly like a fish gasping for oxygen. She began to sag against the console, then she sank to her knees, then finally she was lying on her back and Rogue was still holding on. This woman was a threat, she would kill Rogue's friends, she couldn't be allowed to go through with her evil plan, she would-

"ROGUE, NO!"

Rogue ignored the distant voice and kept pressing. She would save the X-Men, thanks to her they would live, they would never be in danger again, she would-

"ROGUE STOP! YOU'RE KILLING HER!"

Killing? Killing was such a subjective word, particularly when you were dealing with a threat as insidious as this Carol woman. Who did she think she was? 'Was', how interesting that Rogue was already thinking about the woman in the past tense. And besides, wasn't the best way to maintaining one's own safety through prevention? In that respect, she was acting more like Smokey the Bear than she was some morally exceptional-

"ROGUE!"

"Marie."

Rogue stopped. The voice came from the woman. From the pale, pale woman beneath her. She lifted her hands from the woman's face and found herself shaking uncontrollably.

"Marie," the voice gasped. This time, it sounded like it actually came from the woman. It was soft...fragile...dying.

Tears began to fall from Rogue's rapidly blurring eyes. "Ah'm so sorry. Ah'm so sorry," she whispered. She looked around her. Where was the cockpit? "Help," she whispered. "Please help me,"

"LEAVE HER ALONE!"

She turned back to the woman. She was lying on a steel table with a starched white blanket covering her naked body. The woman didn't look so evil now. Now she just looked like...

"Carol?" Rogue asked. She bent down until she was inches from her face. "Carol, wake up. It was all a dream. We're alright now." She touched Carol's shoulder but pulled her hand away violently. She forgot; she wasn't wearing any gloves. A sinking feeling began in the pit of Rogue's stomach. Nothing happened when she touched Carol. She touched her again. This time she pulled her hand away quickly, not because she thought she hurt the woman, but because the woman was chilled to the bone.

The cold reality froze Rogue to the spot. The laboratory, her cell, Gambit, Mr. Sinister, Polaris standing behind her...dead Carol.

"Oh God."

Then she feinted.